I've been quite touched by the outpouring of concern from my family in regards to my treatment by the bank, messages from all quarters which, while occasionally incoherent, were none the less enjoyable to read.
The good news is the bank FINALLY let me have my money. I only had to retrieve a small golden idol on their behalf from an undisclosed South American location fraught with booby traps. Several of my travelling companions either betrayed me or were killed, but in the end I flew out of there in my sea plane and could return to teaching university level archaeology.
It really was some of the absolute worst customer service I have ever had. Even now I STILL do not know WHY they wouldn't give me access to my money. Reading back through their emails is like watching an elaborate interpretive dance depicting the difficulty with which you catch a fly with some chopsticks.
In fact jumping through hoops has been par for the course as of late, the debacle that was getting a new gate pass for work was nothing short of your average ancient Greek saga.
Security here is pretty tight, I pass through four gates every morning, I have a paper pass to do so. A request came through to replace this with a plastic pass which would require me to supply a copy of my contract, my passport and a passport photo.
Done. Oh, but you need a physical photo, not a digital one. Ok, I'll get that done. Could you please return my passport? "We will next week." "Ok, but just so you know I only have one day off in the next week to get this photo done." I get my photo, still no passport, gate pass expires, I will be unable to come into work from now on, which..as luck would have it.. also falls on a weekend so no-one at work can do anything about it.
At the end of my 12 hour shift I stay another couple of hours trying to work out a way to be able to come in the next day. After much faffing about with some genuinely helpful people who went out of their way to aid my cause, I had a temporary gate pass drawn up and sent off. All I had to do was pick it up the next day from the security building on the way into work.
After staying late and now getting up early, I was a bit ragged, but managed to dress myself appropriately and fold myself into a taxi.
At the security permits office they "Didn't get my request for a pass", I'm showing them the email, "No, we didn't get that", "Shall I forward it to you?", "No, we cannot make pass, request has to come from them", "The person who this email is from? That I'm showing you right now?", "Yes, it has to come from them", "But, it has", "Yes, but not to me", "But you're cc'd in right here", "Yes, but I didn't get it", "So shall I resend it to you?", "No, it has to come from them".
*Stab *Stab *Stab stab stab
I ring work, work rings my boss, my boss rings me (from hospital) and after 2 hours of camping out in the carpark, I get a pass. In fact they send through two passes, so security services decide not to issue either of them. Because there are two.
*Stab, *stab stab
I finally get in the gate, go to work, get my passport back and have everything in order to get my new plastic pass. I drop this all off the next day and am told to pick it up the next morning.
I show up, say I'm here to pick up my pass and am told "No-one told me" and "What pass?". I look at the applications on the desk, mine is sitting on top, "That one, that's me." I'm given a *death stare* and told "One moment".. or more accurately 40 moments, if moments are minutes and minutes are stabs.
Still, I got my new pass and the fact it lists my blood group is not unnerving at all.
The good news is the bank FINALLY let me have my money. I only had to retrieve a small golden idol on their behalf from an undisclosed South American location fraught with booby traps. Several of my travelling companions either betrayed me or were killed, but in the end I flew out of there in my sea plane and could return to teaching university level archaeology.
It really was some of the absolute worst customer service I have ever had. Even now I STILL do not know WHY they wouldn't give me access to my money. Reading back through their emails is like watching an elaborate interpretive dance depicting the difficulty with which you catch a fly with some chopsticks.
In fact jumping through hoops has been par for the course as of late, the debacle that was getting a new gate pass for work was nothing short of your average ancient Greek saga.
Security here is pretty tight, I pass through four gates every morning, I have a paper pass to do so. A request came through to replace this with a plastic pass which would require me to supply a copy of my contract, my passport and a passport photo.
Done. Oh, but you need a physical photo, not a digital one. Ok, I'll get that done. Could you please return my passport? "We will next week." "Ok, but just so you know I only have one day off in the next week to get this photo done." I get my photo, still no passport, gate pass expires, I will be unable to come into work from now on, which..as luck would have it.. also falls on a weekend so no-one at work can do anything about it.
At the end of my 12 hour shift I stay another couple of hours trying to work out a way to be able to come in the next day. After much faffing about with some genuinely helpful people who went out of their way to aid my cause, I had a temporary gate pass drawn up and sent off. All I had to do was pick it up the next day from the security building on the way into work.
After staying late and now getting up early, I was a bit ragged, but managed to dress myself appropriately and fold myself into a taxi.
At the security permits office they "Didn't get my request for a pass", I'm showing them the email, "No, we didn't get that", "Shall I forward it to you?", "No, we cannot make pass, request has to come from them", "The person who this email is from? That I'm showing you right now?", "Yes, it has to come from them", "But, it has", "Yes, but not to me", "But you're cc'd in right here", "Yes, but I didn't get it", "So shall I resend it to you?", "No, it has to come from them".
*Stab *Stab *Stab stab stab
I ring work, work rings my boss, my boss rings me (from hospital) and after 2 hours of camping out in the carpark, I get a pass. In fact they send through two passes, so security services decide not to issue either of them. Because there are two.
*Stab, *stab stab
I finally get in the gate, go to work, get my passport back and have everything in order to get my new plastic pass. I drop this all off the next day and am told to pick it up the next morning.
I show up, say I'm here to pick up my pass and am told "No-one told me" and "What pass?". I look at the applications on the desk, mine is sitting on top, "That one, that's me." I'm given a *death stare* and told "One moment".. or more accurately 40 moments, if moments are minutes and minutes are stabs.
Still, I got my new pass and the fact it lists my blood group is not unnerving at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment