I think this blog may finally have found its niche.
First it was Royal Bank of Scotland doing a shit on my doormat.
Now — it's Santander.
Above (for consistency's sake) is Santander's logo: yes, it's a picture of a piece of shit that someone just set fire to.
Before hurling it through the window of Santander's customer fulfilment department.
Customer fulfilment. Customer fulfilment! The only thing Santander has succeeded in fulfilling is its customers' arses.
Hell, this is a bank that sends out its customer (dis)service emails in FUCKING COMIC SANS. As though they were invitations to a child's birthday party. A child's birthday party organised by drooling, subnormal parents. With a paedophile clown.
It has taken the Customer Arse Fulfilment Department since early December — a full three aching months — to process my application for a current account. During that period, the people of Egypt managed to overthrow a dictator.
Meanwhile, the people of Santander sent me seven emails.
Of these seven emails, four consisted of exactly the same message.
(All seven were written in Comic Sans. Oh so jaunty! Oh so friendly! Cripes, these emails make me feel so damn elated that they'd make me want to set fire to a piece of shit. BAARGH.)
The four identical emails? These were requests (at intervals) for ID. Reasonable enough, you might think.
Less reasonable, I'd say, when the bank was already in possession of copies of —
- my passport
- my driving license
- two bank statements, 18 months apart (yes, thanks, RBS)
- printed details of my overdraft limit
- a recent credit card statement
— practically everything, in fact, that featured in their 'send us two of the following forms of ID' list. TWO OF THE FOLLOWING.
So I'd write back to them. 'Dear Santander,' I'd say, 'What more do you want from me?'
'I can confirm,' Comic Sanstander would reply, 'that your application has been received.'
Then, a little while later, I'd receive that same first email. 'We just need a bit more info,' it would announce. With a wrist-slitting kind of chiripiness.
'Dear Santander,' I could but respond, 'You already have all the fucking info (if I may be so bold) that I possess. You now know more about my finances, I dare to suggest, than I do myself. So when you say that you "need more info" and helpfully provide me with a list of suggested "info" I have already provided, are you (in fact) telling me that you have lost my info?'
'I can confirm,' would come the (touchingly personal) response, 'that your application has been received.'
And so it would proceed.
Until today. Email number seven.
'Thank you for your recent application. After careful consideration we will be unable to offer you the Santander Current Account you applied for.'
Timorously, I suggest a rewrite:
'Thank you for your near-historical application. After careless kneejerking and spasmodic panic we were about to offer you the Santander Current Account you applied for. But then some mad bloke hurled a flaming shit through our window and we were all pretty shaken up by that. So instead we took that same shit, scanned it in on our office printer (which also has a handy scanning function) and emailed it to you. HAVE A NICE DAY!!1!'
So now, how do you think I feel? I have wasted three months of my life on this. It's as if I'd spend three deluded months devotedly wooing some braindead minger with rotten teeth and an addiction to competitions — only to realise, with crushing simultaneity that (a) I'd been making a terrible, terrible mistake and (b) that the minger had JUST FUCKING REJECTED ME ANYWAY.