the breakup.

i decided today to break up with my bank. after nearly ten years as a loyal customer, i got fed up with being treated like a miscellaneous fungal growth by the great monolith that is citibank ('shittybank,' to those in the know). for years i have put up with their dreadful customer service, their absurd fees, the draconian rules that govern their accounts. i have put up with it, mainly because i didn't want to deal with the hassle of changing banks.

and boy, didn't they just know it.

today, however, they pushed me too far. and i am only sad that i actually have to set up a schedule through which i can close my accounts--i can't just pull out today.

the story goes a little something like this: two weeks ago, i requested that they furnish me with what they call a consular letter--basically, a piece of paper that says yes, you have an account here. here's how much is in it, here's how long, blah blah. we will need to present it when dom goes into his visa interview. it's not an overly complex item; i also had to get one from HSBC, an endeavor which took approximately five minutes to print out and put in my hand.

but i digress.

so, two weeks ago (more than, actually), i request a consular letter, and am assured by the woman that it will arrive in 5-7 days. the days pass, and there is no sign of the letter. no sign, no sign, and still no sign. so, i call in to check on it; i am informed that they keep no record of these things, and as such cannot check up on its progress. needless to say, i'm peeved, but figure i'll give it till the end of the week to materialize.

it doesn't. so, i email customer service, who characteristically ignores me, and then decide to bite the bullet and call them. so this morning, the trusty cel phone and i leap once more unto the breach, and get kicked off their automated system three times for our trouble. i ultimately have to pretend i'm either a moron who doesn't know her mother's maiden name or someone committing fraud in order to get through to an actual person. a person who puts me on hold for fifteen minutes before i can tell him i want the letter, i want it now, i want it overnighted, and i want the fee waived. who keeps me on hold for so long that my phone begins to die. yeah.

generally, when i'm speaking to someone in customer service, i try to be pleasant with an underlying tone of bitchiness--it's not their fault whatever has gone wrong has gone wrong (usually), but i want them to know that I AM NOT KIDDING. i tried to keep to this formula in dealing with this guy, and succeeded fairly well, until he informed me that his supervisor flat out refused to waive the fee.

"but it's citibank's FAULT i need this thing rushed in the FIRST PLACE!"
"i'm sorry, miss, but she says she will not."
"..."
"miss?"
"please inform your supervisor that her unwillingness to serve a customer in the wake of a company error has made me decide to close all my accounts here. this is appalling. please be certain to let her know that she has lost a customer."

i then proceeded to write an incredibly vexed letter to customer service, in which i was able to use the word 'aghast,' and i felt much better after it. probably not as good as i would have felt closing my accounts today. alas, arrangements must be made and the visa procured before i can do anything rash.

but oh, my goodness. am i hatching an even more vexed letter to send to the president of customer relations (if they have such a thing) when i do finally move my accounts. because that shit? is wack. and i'm pissed.

rarr!