Questions That Break The Bank

, , , , | Working | November 16, 2017

(I have just had my bat mitzvah and it is common to get money donations as gifts. My dad wants to open an investing account for me, and we need to call our bank’s 24-hour trading line to open it. The person on the other line is asking me questions that are difficult for a 12-year-old, and I constantly have to ask my dad for the answers.)

Bank: “I’m sorry; we need your answer. You can’t be speaking to anyone else.”

Me: “But I’m 12! I don’t know my SIN number off by heart. Can’t I let my dad speak for me?”

Bank: “No, it has to be you.”

Me: “But I can’t answer them without speaking to my dad.”

Bank: “Just answer the question!”

Me: “I don’t know my SIN off by heart. I’m looking for it!”

Bank: “Okay, forget it. How much do you have in the account currently?”

Me: “I don’t know! Let me log in.”

Bank: “I don’t think you’re really [My Name]. I’m freezing the account; you’ll have to come in to prove you’re really [My Name].”

(My dad wrote a letter to corporate, and now there’s a note in my file that says all my personal questions can be answered by me or my dad until I’m 18.)

Silently Rigged Against You

, , , | Working | November 15, 2017

(My mother lives in Norway. She’s visited us in Britain for a few days, after which I go back to Norway with her. Not long after we arrive, my mom needs to go to the bank. As we approach, I notice a lot of people are standing still. Inside, it’s eerily silent. But we shrug it off and approach the counter.)

Mum: “Hello.”

Teller: *looks at her, startled*

Mum: “I need to sort out–“

(The teller glares at her and turns away. My mum tries the others, but they quickly back off without saying anything.)

Mum: “That’s rude.”

Me: “Hold on. There’s a manager here. Excuse me. None of your staff will—”

Manager: “SHUSH!”

(Seconds later, everyone started talking again. It turned out that a Norwegian oil rig had turned over, killing most of the crew, and the country had decided to hold a minute’s silence. Being out of the country, we hadn’t heard about it.)

Vaulted To Freedom

, , , , | Working | November 14, 2017

(I’m a banker, and new to this branch. I’ve got a notoriously difficult customer at my desk. He’s always acting like he’s strung out on something, and is very belligerent. I’m resigned to waiting it out when one of my coworkers comes to my desk.)

Coworker: *in a stern tone* “[My Name], I need you in the vault when you’re done. Sooner rather than later, please.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m out. She scares me!” *stumbles out the door*

(I head back to the vault, fearing the worst.)

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Coworker: “Nothing. I just thought you needed to be rescued from Mr. Crazypants over there.”

Me: “I owe you!”

Coworker: “Nah. No worries. Just email me or something if you get any more of those. I can put on my scary face!” *laughs*

Compliments Are Not Complementary

, , , | Right | November 9, 2017

(I’m just finishing up with this customer.)

Customer: “Oh, I just love your earrings!”

Me: “Thanks! I got them at [Store]. They were 50% off last week! Now, there’s your receipt. Have a great day!”

(The customer stands there expectantly.)

Me: “Is there something else I can help you with?”

Customer: “I complimented your earrings; that means you’re going to give them to me.”

Me: “Um… No?”

Customer: “Well, that’s just rude.” *walks out*

What The Truck?

, , , , , , , | Working | November 6, 2017

(I am the customer. I recently purchased a truck and am going in to finish the payment set-up at the bank. I am female.)

Banker: “Okay, so, according to this statement, your payments are going to be $305.00. Do you want that directly from your savings or checking?”

Me: “Yeah, checking, please! I am really excited. I have never owned my own car before!”

Banker: “What sort of vehicle did you decide on?”

Me: “I got an F-150.”

Banker: “What is that?”

Me: “A Ford?”

Banker: “I’ve never heard of it.”

Me: “It’s a popular truck.”

Banker: “You got a truck?”

Me: “Yes. I love it.”

Banker: “But you are a girl!”

Me: “Yes… Yes, I am.”

Banker: “Why didn’t you get a car?”

Me: “I have had a car before, but I really liked the truck.”

Banker: “Girls can’t drive trucks.”

Me: *pauses* “What?”

Banker: “Girls can’t drive trucks! Those are meant for boys!”

Me: “No offense, but that is absurd. It’s just a truck.”

Banker: “Are you a lesbian?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Banker: “Are you a lesbian? Lesbians drive trucks.”

Me: “What is wrong with you? It’s just a car! And no, not that it’s any of your business, but I am not a lesbian, but I take great offense to your stereotyping people based only on the sort of car they drive. This is so wrong.”

Banker: “Are you sure you aren’t a lesbian? I mean, you look girly, but you never know….”

Me: “Do you have a boss?”

Banker: “Yes.”

Me: “Go get them.”

(I explained the entire situation to the boss, while the banker looked completely confused as to why anyone would find her offensive or wrong at all. The bank covered my first payment over it, and I have never seen that lady working there since.)

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