Today, Lovely Daughter and I visited a large national financial institution I will call BoA to close a joint account we had opened a decade prior when she left for college. Since then, I have come to hate BoA, mostly because of the user-hostile policies that have netted them obscene amounts of dollars from this modest account through overdraft fees alone.
As we waited outside for the branch to open (at TEN O'CLOCK!) we joked that they will probably have to lay off several people once they realize this account is closed.
The door finally opened and we walked over to the counter to state our request. That simple act launched the most blatant and fascinating display of ass-kissing I have ever seen. Not only did the customer service rep act like everything LD said was the most fascinating thing he had ever heard (maybe it was?) but before he would hand her the magic slip that would allow her to withdraw her meager funds, he called over his supervisor to grill her, in a most friendly and concerned manner, about her hopes and dreams and goals.
Suddenly, after ten years of indifferent treatment and can't-win policies, BoA was now her Best Friend Ever! They Cared About Her and Her Life! It was a frightening yet wondrous thing to witness.
Those folks worked their asses off in a desperate attempt to keep her two-dollar-and-ninety-two-cent account. And they made sure we sat through their entire spiel, waiting for us to relent to shut them the fuck up.
But they lost. Eat shit and die, BoA. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.