There comes a time in every woman`s life when she needs access to her very own credit card. Not for shoe-buying spells of retail therapy but for more day to day reasons like making flight bookings.
I took to the Internet to apply for such a practical piece of plastic and felt quite confident that through my existing online banking account, this would take minimal effort. Having banked with the same institution since I was eight, I assumed that my bank would be happy to reward my loyalty with as little legislation as possible.
The online application form was simple enough, as I had expected to furnish everything from proof that I exist to the name of my pet fish when I was five. Thankfully, it took only a fax of my ID mugshot and my most recent payslip to complete my application.
A week later, a friendly voice on the phone notified me that my cards had arrived. Never before have I been as excited to stand in line at the "one at a time" door. Countless signatures and a second copy of my mugshot later, I received a cheque, credit and garage card.
The smiling trainee teller informed me that I could link them all and therefore, access all my hard-earned money from said online banking facility. I nodded in agreement, signed more documents and departed, feeling very organised. It was not to be; the next day there were no linked accounts to be found!
The online application form was simple enough, as I had expected to furnish everything from proof that I exist to the name of my pet fish when I was five.
Bhavna Singh, Junior journalist, ITWeb
A call to yet another friendly employee at the call centre revealed that I would have to revisit the friendly trainee teller. All for skills development, I returned and after a third copy of my ID and another stack of forms, I was now sure everything was as it should be.
Every nightmare starts well and for three weeks, I swiped and spent, unaware of the looming not so friendly follow-up call.
The unlucky woman who held the phone to her ear that afternoon caught me on a Friday at 4.30pm on the M1 in Johannesburg after a long week. The lucky fish was enquiring when I could come in to sign the application forms for my cards... imagine my confusion or better, my language!
Apparently, the card division had not yet received my application forms, even though the online division happily performed all transactions and approved my application a month ago. The card division and the online banking division are evidently two separate, non-communicating divisions. I don`t quite know how it works and they clearly don`t either.
Not wanting to have my finances mangled, I made a third visit to the trainee teller who apologised profusely for needing a fourth copy of my ID and a resigning of every form. I complied and received a reward for my fourth visit as said teller magically produced my chequebook, which they had been holding hostage in their open safe for the past month.
By now, any sane person would have changed banks, but I decided to shame them via e-mail. Sadly, the intellectual capacity is low in the retail division and they missed the pun and sarcasm, so much so that my e-mail circulated as a joke for a week before someone recognised it as a letter of complaint.
All the friendly voices in the world cannot quell my irritation and even though I require a fifth visit, in order to figure out why I can`t use my cheque card at an ATM, I`ve resigned myself to believing that this is the last ditch attempt at banking security. After all, if I can`t get at my money, no one else can either.
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