A 98 year old woman wrote this to her bank. The bank
manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York
Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with
which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my
calculations, three nanoseconds, must have elapsed
between his presenting the check and the arrival in my
account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of
course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire
salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in
place for only eight years. You are to be commended
for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also
for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the
inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness
springs from the manner in which this incident has
caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I
noticed that whereas I personally attend to your
telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact
you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging,
prerecorded, faceless entity which your bank has
become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to
deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and
loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer
be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by check,
addressed personally and confidentially to an employee
at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it
is an offense under the Postal Act for any other
person to open such an envelope. Please find attached
an Application Contact Status which I require your
chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to
eight pages, but in order that I know as much about
him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no
alternative. Please note that all copies of his or
her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary
Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial
situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must
be accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I
will issue your employee with a PIN number which
he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that
it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses
required of me to access my account balance on your
phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the
sincerest form of flattery. Let me level the playing
field even further. When you call me, press buttons as
follows:
1-- To make an appointment to see me.
2-- To query a missing payment.
3-- To transfer the call to my living room in case I
am there.
4-- To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am
sleeping.
5-- To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am
attending to nature.
6-- To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am
not at home.
7-- To leave a message on my computer. (A password to
access my computer
is required. A password will be communicated to you at
a later date to
the Authorized Contact.)
8-- To return to the main menu and to listen to
options 1 through 7.
9-- To make a general complaint or inquiry, the
contact will then be put
on hold, pending the attention of my automated
answering service.
While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait,
uplifting music will play for the duration of the
call. Regrettably, but again following your example,
I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the
setting up of this new arrangement. May I wish you a
happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.
Your Humble Client
(Remember: This was written by a 98 year old woman)
JUST GOTTA LOVE
SENIORS!