This morning, I needed to get a checking account problem straightened out, not the kind of simple situation a teller could take care of. No, this needed one of the heavy guns, somebody from Customer Service. Ever since my bank was bought out by another bank, morning problem solving became as common as the chirping of birds and the dew on a windshield. Because this little scenario had already been repeated with more performances than Broadway’s  Le Miserables,  I could easily estimate my time sitting in one of those comfortable chairs while some five people were ahead of me. Determined to beat the system, I awakened early, drove to the local branch (which opens at 9:00) and arrived at 9:02. Only one person was ahead of me. Good job, Bob. No waiting for five people this time. And then, looking around, I realized that only one of the Customer Service representatives was even in yet and he (alas) was assisting the first fellow who, evidently, pressed his face against the door at 8:49, gambling that one of their watches would be a minute fast. Naturally, this “earlier bird” had thirty minutes worth of problems, leaving me with the same, obligatory half hour wait.

No, I was not delayed by a bunch of customers. Instead, I had to wait around for all the bankers to roll in. Somewhere, in some shady board meeting around a nice, polished, oak table, careful, delicate strategy figures out how to make our banks just as inconvenient to their customers as is humanly possible.

Financial institutions aren’t quite as fun as a day at Disneyland, are they? Then again, maybe they are. Don’t miss Part Two:

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