Bah, humbug! Not a Christmas Tale.
This might be a long and boring story, however it’s one that I have to get out before I kill my best friend who has been a model of calm and wonderfulness, and doesn’t deserve the grief I gave her when I called her hysterical from just about everywhere today. (I hate everything about Christmas except for some of the music, and Christmas dinner at the Ralphâ’s.
Okay enough Christmas cheer: First a disclaimer or something: Iâ€™m not a crazy person, donâ€™t look or act like one except when I go into a certain Chase branch on Broadway near 72nd Street where I become my worst nightmare. If I ever murder somebody I’m going to use the “Chase drove me to it” defense.
My long convoluted history with Chase began, probably shortly after birth. My personal history began when I moved to East 63rd Street, and there was a Chase branch just down the block on Madison.
They kicked me out soon after as I didnâ€™t have $10,000 to leave in a non-interest bearing checking account, when they became the first Private Banking Division. What 20something had that amount of money? Okay, many probably did, and didnâ€™t care about the interest. What normal person would want to leave $10,000 in an account that doesnâ€™t give interest? This is in late 1970â€™s or early 1980â€™s money. $10,000 was a lot of money.
This is totally true. My father, the super CPA didnâ€™t believe me. I brought him to the branch. He apologized. My dad would start bank accounts if they gave him a toaster. Then he would close them. But he always remained a devoted Chase customer for reasons he was at loss to explain. He did scream at them â€œyou give money to every South American country and wonâ€™t give my daughter a credit card.â€ My hero.
Chase began to change my branches so many times I lost count or any knowledge of where my account was supposed to be. Then in the early 1990â€™s I went to work in The Bronx and changed my branch to one down the street from my office.
Somehow they debited my entire account. I didnâ€™t know this and paid my bills. They not only bounced all my checks but had debited my credit line. How this happened is beyond my comprehension. They also refused to acknowledge this mistake. I worked for Social Security, couldnâ€™t use the phone during working hours, and had 45 minutes for lunch and two fifteen or twenty minute breaks a day.
As Chase kept banker hours it was very difficult for me to have my money re-credited to my account. But I somehow was able to reach the Bronx District Manager for Chase who at first didnâ€™t believe me then professed to be horrified.
But I had to call all ten people or institutions I had made out checks to. I felt humiliated as my credit is important to me, and I dislike bouncing checks especially when it wasnâ€™t my fault to begin with. The Manager agreed that the bank should pay all charges. However, they didnâ€™t pay the money I was charged by my landlord, credit card company, and everybody else. This began my true hatred of them.
I moved from Manhattan to The Bronx and was changing branches to one near my home when my sister and I made identical $25,000 deposits to our savings account. We both made out checks as we had been told to put the money in our savings account and that the checks would be honored.
Got a funny feeling about it and went to my bank to transfer my money to my checking account. My new branch called the old branch who said that they would transfer the money immediately. They didnâ€™t, and all my checks bounced.
My sisterâ€™s branch in The West Village of Manhattan, looked at her total account, saw that she had the money and a good record and let the checks go through. I had excellent credit, hadnâ€™t bounced a check (except for the ones stated above) in many, many years. Yet still they bounced my checks and refused to pay the fees.
I know, I know. Anybody else would have changed banks then. But it was complicated. Way too complicated to explain