A friend who is an artist agreed to sell me a piece of her art. I collect art from friends, and the wall in my office has been slowly been overtaken with fun pieces of quirky, beautiful art.
I set aside a few dollars a week over the course of several months, and walked down to the Trustmark bank downtown and paid for a money order. I sent it to the address the artist had provided me. Her response when I sent her a note to look for the money was classic, and made me happy:
"Thank you for supporting my art! It helps me want to make more!"
A few days go by, and I haven't heard that she received it. I ping her once; she says she had not received the check. A couple more days go by, and I get the following:
"You check got stolen out of our mail! We havr had our mail stolen in the past so we get this USPS service that sends a picture of what should have been delivered every day. The check was delivered Friday and we never got it."
It is labor day weekend, so I can't do anything. But on Tuesday, I walk over to the Trustmark Bank near where I work, and ask for them to cancel the check.
Back a year and a half ago, when I first arrived in Vicksburg, I needed a local bank. For convenience sake, I chose the bank immediately adjacent to my work. Regions Bank promptly closed down that branch and several others in town. So the convenience I had counted on is not there. As a result, I am in the market for a new bank. Trustmark carries my mortgage, and I was impressed with the folks in that department. This interaction - cancelling the money order - is working a little bit like a trial run. Will the service be worth changing banks for?
I felt like it was a little bit like taking your car to a dealership to be serviced. Are they going to gouge you? Can you trust them when stuff goes wrong? Or are they only interested in new car sales?
From the outset, I was treated with great suspicion, as though I was somehow gaming the system. The Head Cashier explained that my only recourse was to pay a fee to have the check canceled. Then I was going to have to pay to have the new check issued (I had already paid for the money order once; now it was going to be twice). And I could pay for it in cash, or they could deduct it from my 'account' (you know, that account that I am trying to decide whether to open with them?).
"What would you like to do?"
Well, you just told me that I have no choice. Or rather, you have explained that my choice is a Hobson's Choice. (As much as I love game theory, this one sucks). I can lose the money, or I can pay the fine. To add insult, the ATM charges $3. And it is out of order.
When I came back, I am directed to someone else, who processes the entire transaction without looking up, except when I tell her that she has misspelled my name on the affadavit. And her own.
In exchange for the fee, she tapped a few keys, canceled the money order, printed out a new one, and held out her hand. I walked out, just under 50 bucks poorer, with a new money order.
Less than an hour later, my cell phone rings.
"Mr. Lawton, I just wanted to apologize. I don't know where my head was this morning."
I nodded my agreement. I had wondered the same thing.
"I gave you the all the copies of the money order. I was only supposed to give you the top two copies. Can you come back and give the others to me?"
So in summary, I was robbed, treated like a criminal by the bank I was interviewing, charged an exorbitant fee for a few seconds of computer work, and then was asked to take additional time out of my day to do them a favor, to correct a mistake that was not my fault.
Sure. I'll get right on that. And you can expect my business just seconds before before the Pope sends me a piece of his own art work.
I just hope he doesn't want a money order.
I set aside a few dollars a week over the course of several months, and walked down to the Trustmark bank downtown and paid for a money order. I sent it to the address the artist had provided me. Her response when I sent her a note to look for the money was classic, and made me happy:
"Thank you for supporting my art! It helps me want to make more!"
A few days go by, and I haven't heard that she received it. I ping her once; she says she had not received the check. A couple more days go by, and I get the following:
"You check got stolen out of our mail! We havr had our mail stolen in the past so we get this USPS service that sends a picture of what should have been delivered every day. The check was delivered Friday and we never got it."
It is labor day weekend, so I can't do anything. But on Tuesday, I walk over to the Trustmark Bank near where I work, and ask for them to cancel the check.
Back a year and a half ago, when I first arrived in Vicksburg, I needed a local bank. For convenience sake, I chose the bank immediately adjacent to my work. Regions Bank promptly closed down that branch and several others in town. So the convenience I had counted on is not there. As a result, I am in the market for a new bank. Trustmark carries my mortgage, and I was impressed with the folks in that department. This interaction - cancelling the money order - is working a little bit like a trial run. Will the service be worth changing banks for?
I felt like it was a little bit like taking your car to a dealership to be serviced. Are they going to gouge you? Can you trust them when stuff goes wrong? Or are they only interested in new car sales?
From the outset, I was treated with great suspicion, as though I was somehow gaming the system. The Head Cashier explained that my only recourse was to pay a fee to have the check canceled. Then I was going to have to pay to have the new check issued (I had already paid for the money order once; now it was going to be twice). And I could pay for it in cash, or they could deduct it from my 'account' (you know, that account that I am trying to decide whether to open with them?).
"What would you like to do?"
Well, you just told me that I have no choice. Or rather, you have explained that my choice is a Hobson's Choice. (As much as I love game theory, this one sucks). I can lose the money, or I can pay the fine. To add insult, the ATM charges $3. And it is out of order.
When I came back, I am directed to someone else, who processes the entire transaction without looking up, except when I tell her that she has misspelled my name on the affadavit. And her own.
In exchange for the fee, she tapped a few keys, canceled the money order, printed out a new one, and held out her hand. I walked out, just under 50 bucks poorer, with a new money order.
Less than an hour later, my cell phone rings.
"Mr. Lawton, I just wanted to apologize. I don't know where my head was this morning."
I nodded my agreement. I had wondered the same thing.
"I gave you the all the copies of the money order. I was only supposed to give you the top two copies. Can you come back and give the others to me?"
So in summary, I was robbed, treated like a criminal by the bank I was interviewing, charged an exorbitant fee for a few seconds of computer work, and then was asked to take additional time out of my day to do them a favor, to correct a mistake that was not my fault.
Sure. I'll get right on that. And you can expect my business just seconds before before the Pope sends me a piece of his own art work.
I just hope he doesn't want a money order.
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