I Wouldn’t Bank On These Bankers Being Responsible

We moved to a new city a few years ago, and around a year ago, we finally got around to switching to a local bank, opening both a checking and a savings account. It was a very small location that was part of a larger branch of a nationwide bank. There were only ever two tellers and two bankers.

Recently, we came into a bit more money, so we were wiring the money from the savings account into an investment account at an investment bank and shutting down the savings account. This should be some straightforward, boring banking. Unfortunately, it was anything but.

Monday morning, I went to the bank with the necessary paperwork. After sitting around a bit, I found out that their computers were down.

Okay. These things happen. I’ll come back tomorrow.

Tuesday morning, I showed back up, paperwork in hand. I was told to wait in the office of one of the bankers. She was not in her office, but she would be back in a minute. This was the first red flag. I could do anything in her office. There was a big glass window into the office, and it was actually a larger single room that was shared by both bankers with a large glass room divider between them. If the other banker was there — which they weren’t — maybe they could make sure I was not up to something nefarious? I mean, I was not planning to rob the bank, but I wanted to know my money was secure.

A minute later, the banker came in. We chatted about the computer problems of the day before as they got set up. “Oh, I had to get a whole new password yesterday!” they told me. I made a sympathetic remark. Then, they easily reached over and brandished an old, tattered half-page of pager with scribbles all over it from a small vertical file organizer standing on her desk. “Here’s my cheat sheet with all my passwords!” they exclaimed.

I just froze. What the f***?! My banker had a cheat sheet of all their passwords, which they kept on top of their desk, and they showed it off to their clients. Okayyyy. Now I needed a new bank. This wasn’t a red flag; this was a giant red banner waving in the wind!

I was sitting there, wondering whether I should say something now or wait to mention it to a superior so they couldn’t destroy the paper and pretend it didn’t exist. As I was trying to nudge my stupefied brain cells into engaging, the banker logged in, and then placed the password list down by their computer. The desk was L-shaped, the computer was in the corner, and the paper was a bit farther down the long side of the L, away from me. But it was still only a few feet away, just lying there.

I chose to stay quiet about this monstrosity for the moment, and we got on with the banking at hand. It turned out that my new investment bank had sent confusing instructions for the wire transfer. They had added an extra routing number that was unneeded. My banker called over to the other banker, who had returned.

This was when I realized that the large glass partition between their desks served no real purpose. One could hear everything everyone was saying quite easily, regardless of which side anyone was on, and because the partition was glass, one could see everything, as well. If they each had customers at the same time, then each customer would be privy to the other’s banking! This was now just one more red flag to add to the list.

The two bankers continued trying to figure out how to wire the money over. During this time, they had to leave the room a few times to grab printouts, so I was left alone with a password cheat-sheet four feet away. I had taken my phone out to email them something, so it would have been insanely easy to open my camera and reach over and grab a pic. I mean, this thing looked like it was three years old and had twenty passwords on it. Who knows how many were active, but, just… what the f***?!

Finally, after a call to my investment bank, they got the money wired and I left in a state of shock. I had chosen not to talk to them about it right then. I was worried that a boss would be close to them and try to sweep it all under the rug. The close proximity of the two bankers and the small nature of the location made me think there was no way other people working there didn’t know about this. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew.

Instead, I plan to talk to someone high up in the parent location of the same branch, which is thirty miles away. Hopefully, whoever I talk to will have some distance from the banker and be sensible about things. Given the very poor layout of the bankers’ shared office, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if not much is done.

I’m planning on closing out my checking account tomorrow, and then I’ll call the head office. I’d be worried about retribution, otherwise. The thing is, neither of these bankers is new to the job. They are both in their sixties and have presumably been doing this for years. One would assume that they’d have some concept of security. But, alas, obviously not. I guess I should just be glad they haven’t been cleaned out yet.