Ding Dong, The B#%*ch Is Here
Quick disclaimer: This post is going to have a lot more family unfriendly cursing in it than normal. And I will be saying some very nasty things about a person I just met today. Extremely nasty and extremely offensive. If you don’t like it, then f$^k off. This is my blog.
So normally, I don’t let these c$%^@!^%#rs get to me. A nasty customer comes in? Branch entertainment for the rest of the week ensues. Often with impressions, assumptions (correct ones, too) about the lack of processing power between their ears, the works. Someone actually gets loud and abusive? I’ll lay down the ground rules for dealing with me. I don’t claim to be a baddass, but I’ll tell you what’s up, and I’ll show you the door.
You don’t think I know at what point do you need to call the police? I’ve done it. I’ll do it again too. Close your account. See if I care.
F$*%ing piece of s%^&.
But only the customers that are in the rarest of rare forms really get under my skin. And I had that nasty customer today.
Be forewarned. The Angry Retail Banker is $^*!ing angry today. And I am scary when I’m angry.
The Boxing Gloves Were On
So this c$&t storms over to my desk with a copy of a check cashed against her account that she got from the teller. After harassing the teller for about twenty minutes, she decides to make it her mission in life to make me hate her very existence.
She had a check that was cashed against her account, drawn on another bank. The amount? A mere $25. But the check was stale dated, written back in 2011. Her signature was forged, she never had possession of this check, and the check was returned due to the aforementioned stale date, causing the $25 to be debited, along with a bounced check fee.
The branch that the check was cashed at? Not ours. But because I’m “the face of XYZ Bank”, that gives her carte blanche in her mind to act like a raging b$%*ch. And so she did.
Now she’s demanding to have fraud alerts put on her account. Banks don’t do fraud alerts, at least not in the manner that she’s looking for. I’m not really sure what she was looking for.
“I’m looking for the bank to protect my account!”
Banks don’t offer fraud protection in the same manner as what you would get when you call the credit bureau and have them monitor your credit and Social Security number. We can put notes on your account. We can put a password on your account so that you can only get cash or account information by saying the password. We can put your account on hold so that nothing can be debited from the account. We can close your account and open you a new one.
But banks aren’t LifeLock, you f#%^!ing w%@*&! While some banks used to and/or currently offer similar products separately, the account protection they provide is what I listed above.
It was when I told her, not thirty seconds into our conversation, that I was going to give our Fraud Department a call that everything went south. She had someone on her phone and she was going on to whatever useless waste of life was on the line about how she couldn’t believe that the bank wasn’t able to help her and that she was going to close her accounts and everything.
You see, she wanted the bank to protect her account, but not actually put any sort of a hold on it. So when I told her I would call the department to see what the best course of action is, she made sure she stopped me every time I picked up the phone to ask me what a fraud alert entails.
Well, it entails nothing if you don’t want us to actually do anything, you frigid t@%*!
So now I have the Fraud Department on the phone, trying to listen to one human being and one worthless sack of meat talking in my ears at the same time. But as time goes on, I start to realize something: The worthless sack of meat is trying to provoke me.
“Stop Touching Me. Stop Touching Me. Stop Touching Me”.
It may seem ridiculous. Why would this
person accident that should have been prevented via safe sex education just be trying to provoke me for the hell of it? I don’t know this person, and she doesn’t know me. It makes no sense. It must just seem like the vile she-beast had it out for me.
Then things started to get weird. She started picking fights where there needn’t have been any, even by nasty customer standards.
Like I mentioned before, she interpreted “Let me call the Fraud Department and see what is the best course of action” as “Well, we can’t protect your account and we pretty much just let anybody have your money if they ask”. She was also making passive-aggressive comments to the person on her cell phone about how I wasn’t helping her and all that, as if I weren’t literally sitting right next to her. I hope she f$&^ing gets
cancer AIDS explosive diarrhea cancer Ebola T-Virus cancer arrested for texting and driving and left in jail for a couple weeks cancer from that cell phone.
What? Don’t look at me like that.
She was also trying to start a fight with me as to how the check got cashed in the first place. As “the face of the bank”, I should be able to explain and be held accountable for the action.
Now I might delve into this in another post, but anyone who thinks that should immediately jump off a tall building. Realistically, how could I possibly know the details of a teller transaction that occurred in another branch? A functioning cerebrum should have prevented this woman from asking me such a f%^@ing retarded question, but I guess that’s what happens when you are repeatedly dropped on your head as a child. Not that I blame her parents for dropping her. I blame them for not dropping her from high enough.
What? Don’t look at me like that. Did I not say in the very beginning that this was going to be an extremely offensive post?
She was trying to get a rise out of me there and a rise out of me practically any which way she could. I think the exact moment something just started feeling wrong to me about this b$^%h was during a question on the affidavit. I was typing out a form for her called an Affidavit of Forgery, which we do if you’ve had checks stolen or fraudulently cashed, even if they weren’t your checks (including in this case where a check drawn on another bank was cashed against her account). One of the items to put on there was the date of the police report.
I asked her if she had filed a police report, which she hadn’t. I put today’s date on the report and advised her to head over to the precinct with her copy of the affidavit when we were done.
Her response? “Why should I fill out the police report? The bank is the one at fault! They cashed a fraudulent check! Shouldn’t you fill out a police report!?”
I didn’t grace that with a response (that would acknowledge her as a human being, and I needed every legal defense I could muster after I finished strangling her). I just smiled, deleted today’s date and replaced it with “N/A”, and said “No police report. Okay, next question”.
Why should you fill out a police report? Is it not your account? Goddamned moron. Why would you not fill out a police report for check fraud!?
Either you are a moron or you are full of s&!t
She also mentioned to me that tomorrow, she is going to come in and close all her accounts. Now I guess she thought I was going to apologize to her and do everything in my power to keep her from leaving (she had over $50,000), but if she were a reader of angryretailbanker.com, she would know why threatening to close your account doesn’t work. Then again, I don’t think this turd muffin was literate.
After that, she tried to get me to lie.
So I mentioned that she has a copy of the cashed check, dated 2011 and made out to her (though every time I tell the woman from the Fraud Department that, Queen B$%&hy McB$%&henstein yells that “It’s not made out to me! It’s made out to someone else with the exact same name as me!”). This check has a forged endorsement on the back that isn’t even remotely like hers, but it was still supposed to be her name (the first letter of her first name, and then a series of scribbles. Just like every person who signs a check/withdrawal slip). But the actual face of the check is not altered in any way, shape, or form. It’s stale dated, but it’s not altered.
So I complete the affidavit and show it to her, telling her to look it over and sign it when she’s ready. She looks at me and tells me I filled it with completely false information.
You see, I made the mistake of checking off the box that reads “Fradulent/Improper Endorsement” and leaving out “Alteration”. That was my mistake, not living in her warped version of reality. In her mind, the check with a forged endorsement but no alterations on the face actually was altered. And it wasn’t both “Fraudulent/Improper Endorsement” and “Alteration”; just the latter.
This led to an issue where I had to put down what the alteration was. So I just put her name as both what it was and what it was altered to. “D$^k Eater” to “D$^k Eater”.
But somehow I had been trying to get her to put down false information. Certainly it wasn’t the other way around.
And then in the comments, I filled out the story of what happened. “Check drawn on [other bank’s name here] was cashed against customer’s account. Customer never had the check, never authorized the check to be cashed, was never at the branch where the check was cashed, and the endorsement was forged.”
Nope that’s not what happened. She wants me to put down the truth.
What does she consider the truth? “This!” she exclaims, pointing to the copy of the check. Okay, I guess the truth is that she cashed out a check made out to her?
She also wants me to “hurry it along so I can get out of here, already. I’ve got to get to work”. At around 3:30 PM. Fine.
I hope your workstation gets flooded with carbon monoxide. Everyone is completely unharmed except you.
She explains further. A bank employee committed fraud against her account! That’s the story of what happened! What I put down? Completely false!
Now I’m not putting that down on the affidavit because I have no grounds for that to even be part of the claim. Is it possible that the teller was part of the evil scheme to con somebody out of $25? Sure. Is it possible that this blog is actually being ghostwritten by Pope Francis, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, and Justin Bieber? You can’t prove that it’s not.
But this one won’t hear my explanation of why I won’t put that down. Oh no, she actually takes the paper and writes it in herself! Fine, that’s how I’m sending down the affidavit. I just don’t care at this point. I’ve already done four of these things because each one apparently had false information.
If her affidavit is rejected because now she’s making a false claim or something, then that’s her problem, not mine.
Oh, and apparently because we don’t know the exact amount or check number of a check that she wrote and sent out but hasn’t been presented for payment yet, then the bank is unable/unwilling to protect her account and she’s leaving the first chance she gets. This check absolutely must be paid.
My foot absolutely must be firmly planted up your ass, but we don’t always get everything we want in life.
I Have A Terrible Face
I forgot why, but the phone was handed over to this walking Baby Boomer stereotype. I think the woman from Fraud Department felt sorry for me, because they don’t ever speak to the customers.
I would kill this vile piece of crap’s children to work in Fraud Department.
I don’t know what the woman from the department said, but the $^*!@*&^% nugget I had in front of me was suddenly nice…………to her.
She thanked the woman from Fraud Department and made sure to tell her that I gave her fifteen different answers (all of them identical). If I am the face of XYZ Bank, she tells, her then it is a terrible face and I shouldn’t be working in customer service.
Well, I agree with her on that last part. I shouldn’t be working in customer service because I swear someone’s about to get slapped. This woman is the type of person who goes around, bullies others into getting what she wants, and then asks “What ever happened to service with a smile?”.
Afterwards, she yanks back her driver’s license saying I’ve had it for too long (as if giving me her ID was some sort of favor), signs the paper and slams it down on my desk, and demands her copy so “I can get out of here already”.
Beware Of Flying Notary Stamps
So when I went to the back to make the photocopy, that was thankfully the last I ever saw of that poster child for euthanasia. That’s not because an out-of-control 18-wheeler crashed through the bank and ran her over (god-f$#^ing-dammit). No, it’s because I refused to go back out there.
In the back, I was livid. I couldn’t speak except to tell the people there that I was going to punch/choke/strangle/murder her. Face and vision completely red, I even threw my notary stamp against the wall. Unfortunately, instead of shattering into a million pieces, it remained pristine and ready to be made use of for any of the dozens of people per week that stumble in demanding free notary services. I think I scared my assistant manager, too. She told me to take as long as I need to calm down (a little over five minutes) and that she would take the copies back to the customer.
Now understand this. It takes a lot to get me to this sort of state. Sure, pissing me off is fairly easy, but I’m an adult and I’ve been doing this for a long time. I’ve been doing customer service of some sort or another since I was sixteen; I’m not sixteen anymore.
So for the Angry Retail Banker to actually become an angry retail banker inside the branch, you’ve really had to have gone above and beyond.
But why? Why did this customer get to me?
I sort of had the realization when thinking about a customer I dealt with the other day. The teller told him the check would be available in [x] number of business days, and the check wasn’t because back office put a hold on it. He keeps interrupting me to ask why the teller lied to him (seriously, we need to start giving IQ tests as part of the account opening process) every time I try to explain that the back office couldn’t verify the check.
Eventually I gave this guy an ultimatum: He stops raising his voice at me and stops interrupting me, or I don’t help him. “These are the ground rules when you’re at my desk,” were my exact words to this man, prompting the attention of every customer on the platform.
I couldn’t do that with this woman. She was being passive-aggressive, and she was certainly making the case for increased gun violence. But she wasn’t saying anything that could justify me laying down the law.
Laying down the law is a great stress reliever. And real quick, it doesn’t entail yelling back at customers, cursing them out, etc. It means just that; firmly telling them that they are to treat you with respect or they will not receive service, and that what you are saying is not negotiable.
Not being able to do that forced me to just sit there and take it. For over an hour. Unable to even let a negative emotion come across my face, let alone tell her off (in a way that wouldn’t get me fired).
That built up until it was released in the form of a flying notary stamp. One that didn’t give this f$%&ing b#%&@h brain damage.
You Can’t Handle The Truth!
You want to know what I think happened? I mean, what honest to God really happened?
Perhaps it’s the unbridled rage or the murder daydreams talking, but I honestly think she was full of s$#*.
I’ve never done an Affidavit of Forgery for someone who was unwilling to go file a police report. Never seen it. And while many people whom I do this for are a little antsy in the pantsy, it’s never deliberate like this. They are jittery and on edge; this woman was quite deliberate in pushing my buttons.
It was more than it simply being that time of the month for her, even though she had blood coming out of her wherever.
I think this is what really happened:
She was cleaning her attic/basement/witch’s hovel when she came across the check written to her four years ago (the makers’ last names were the same as hers). She probably had a falling out of some sort, resulting in her getting b%#^h-slapped across her face and unable to go back to them to have the check reissued. So she took the check and went from branch to branch, finally finding a teller that didn’t have the balls to tell her to f%&$ off.
The check is cashed and she has $25 in hand to hopefully buy cyanide pills with. Then the check bounces due to it being dated for 2011. $25 comes out of her account, plus a fee. So while she may have the cash in her hand, she is actually at a net loss. Instead of accepting this as the rightful consequence of trying to defraud the bank and whatever family members that wrote her the check, she decides to pull out the F-word: “Fraud”. She calls up, gets her fees back, and then comes into the branch to complain and get that $25 put back into her account. She walks away with the cash.
I bet she still had that money in her pocket when she sat with me. She probably spent the rest of the day sniffing it like it was cocaine.
And you know friggin’ what!? She got exactly what she wanted!
My manager called up the other branch’s manager to ask exactly how a stale dated check got cashed. The other manager saw her $50,000 and had us just refund the customer from their general ledger. We still put her case through to the Fraud Department so it could be investigated, just so we at least have on paper that we followed proper procedures.
And because no one–including myself–had the balls to whip out their d$%^s and tell this woman to f^$#ing eat it, she got away with it. All to keep her from taking her money out of the account, even though only those with a misconception on how banks make money would really be afraid because her taking that money out of the account was the whole point of her opening the account in the first place. Every dollar that enters a bank account eventually leaves it, no matter how happy the customer is with the bank.
“But ARB,” you protest, holding your tongue at all the vile language and instead focusing on the story, “would this woman with a $50,000 account really go through all that for $25?
Yes. Because she’s a c%*$-bite.
[Edit: It’s been a few days between the actual incident and me writing this post, so I’m just adding this in rather than changing anything. Back office denied her claim, and not because her money was already refunded. I don’t have the full details, but it looks like I might have been right.]
The Legacy You Leave Behind
It’s funny. In a way, I feel sorry for this woman more than anyone.
We all have egos. Even the most humble and/or secure of individuals care in some way how others view them. It’s just how we are as a species. No one wants to be seen as a moron or as a walking logo for a wire hanger company.
Some people are known well after their deaths for what they’ve accomplished. Martin Luther King Jr’s legacy, for example, will be standing up for equality and against racism.
This woman, long after she leaves the bank and never comes back, will be known as the crazy b%^&h that made me throw something. She will be known as all sorts of things. Even without knowing her name or what she looks like, those in my branch will know who she is.
And that’s not to say anything of this blog post. She may not know it, but she has become immortalized forever on the Internet. People will find my blog, read this post, and go “Wow, what a nasty customer” for as long as it is online.
For anyone that likes to treat retail employees like crap, I urge you to take a moment and think about your legacy. Think about the memory of you–the tale of you–that will get told over and over again.
Because we will tell your story. We will tell our friends and family when they ask us how our day was. We will tell new employees when we relay the horror stories of the past. We will share it on retail rant sites such as Not Always Right (or Angry Retail Banker).
Your ignorance, your rudeness, everything. It will all be told and it will all be posted. And strangers will make fun of you, insult you, and bring you up as evidence for why they are happy they don’t have to deal with the public or why they think that some people shouldn’t be allowed to vote.
It sounds so trivial, especially since you will likely never know about it. That teenager behind the counter of a Taco Bell you cursed out? You might have forgotten about it days later. For you, whatever the situation was ended when you walked out the door of that location, and you never heard about it or even brought it up again. And for the most part, you may not even care.
But is that what you want to leave behind? To be the faceless bad guy in a story about abuse? For strangers to mock you and do impressions of you for years to come? For your story to be posted online for others to mock you or hate you, just as this woman’s is right now?
It’s not about the retail employee. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you. Even if you never experience the consequences, would you still want that out there? How would you feel if you found a retail horror story online and realized that you were the nasty customer that was being talked about? And everyone was coming out in droves to support the employee and agree how awful you are?
Think about that next time you are going to be an abusive ass. You will likely not become a famous entertainer. You will likely not become the next great civil rights leader. You will likely not leave a multibillion dollar charity in your name behind.
Absent of becoming a celebrity or leaving our names on something great, it is our interactions with one another that will get passed on, down, and around.
Do you want a story of you being an abusive moron to be your only legacy?
Didn’t think so.
I still hope that d#$^%^*ing t@#t gets run over by a f$^*ing bus.
Every joke has a punchline. And this m#$&$%$%&@ing b#$^h was nothing but a joke. So what’s the punchline?
Guess who opened her account?
Yup, it was me. And not only that, but it was the very first account I opened at this bank!
Seriously, I can’t make this stuff up.
Readers–What the f$%& do YOU think!? Was this woman an unreasonable, nasty piece of s^@%, or an unreasonable, nasty piece of s^@%? Bank and/or retail workers, what was the worst experience with a customer you ever had? Leave your f^%&ing thoughts in the f&%*ing comments below!