Saturday, July 1, 2017

Update (BofA Still Sucks!).

I have had more response to the previous posting than any other I have written since starting this blog nine years ago.

Apparently there are a whole bunch of you out there in Digital Land who hate their bank and would do damn near anything to avoid dealing with it.

Well, my friends, I'm glad to say that for my entire life I didn't have to do that.  My dear departed Elaine handled that important task while I went out and made it rain.  Equal division of duties, I thought. So did she.

Now, she's gone and I'm smacked in the face with the reality that banks are inflexible, unfeeling, greedy behemoths, and that they really suck! Especially Bank of America!

So, if you haven't read the previous posting, take a moment and do so now.  It will prepare you for this update.  And if you have, good sir/madam, read on...

I left you hanging before, not knowing if BofA would actually decide to turn loose of my money.  I'm pleased to report that I finally got all the various bits and pieces of paper they demanded, jumped through all the hoops they placed in my way, maneuvered over all the speed bumps they hampered me with, got them all (expensively) notarized nice and neat, and delivered them to a flunky at the local branch.  He was kind enough to fax them away to some nameless faceless other dumbulb somewhere, and then comforted me by letting me know that everything would now be okay.  

That was fourteen days ago.

Since then I've tried to reach this same flunky to find out when - or even if - I'll get my money back.  Call backs? Ummm, no. Five voicemail messages left, zero returned calls, no money in the hand.

But hey, maybe he's been busy!

Finally I grew so impatient I went to the branch, for the sixth time in six weeks, and plopped myself in a chair in front of this bozo's desk.  I told him I did not intend to leave until I got an answer to my question:  When would BofA turn loose of my cash?  

After an hour and forty-five minutes of me waiting and him nervously making phone calls to somebody, somewhere, he had an answer. Ready?  

They were happy to report they finally had all the stuff they needed and I could look for a check in my mailbox!  That's great, I said.  But then he finished with, "Ummm, in three or four weeks."


If you're one microcenton late with a payment to BofA, and probably any other bank for that matter, they will nick you with a hefty charge.  No float for you, Grasshopper!  But if they owe you money?  It takes time for processing and handling and adjusting and moving paper around on their desks and shipping and talking with each other on the phone and in person and processing and handling, doncha know. And processing. And handling.  Three of four weeks!  

Soooooo, I told Mr. Branch Manager Flunky to simply have them wire transfer the money into my account!  Simple, right? They could do that, right?  


It seems they can't do that if you're closing an account.  They have to mail you a check.  After they're done playing with your money for awhile. So, I said, don't close the account, just wire me my money.  They said they couldn't do that, because the account had to be closed since the only signatory on it has departed for the Great Beyond.

So, my friends, deep in the midst of this Catch 22, my problem is almost over.  They have everything they'll need to cough up my cash, they said, and permit me to close this sorry chapter in my life.  And never darken the Bank of America again.  Almost.  Not quite. Just a few more weeks. I'll keep you briefed...


Thanks to all who provided a suggestion as to where I should take my banking business.  I promise I will consider each of them, and most likely select one.  Actually, I'm considering turning all my meager money into cash and burying it a Mason jar in my back yard.  If the way the BofA handles its banking business is indicative of the state of the banking art these days, then I'd be better off not dealing with any of them...

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