The ass clownery of ShatWest* business banking/fuckwittery knows no bounds, here’s a list that I am typing to feel better when I should be sleeping/wanking:
Reticent to let go of your money once they have their filthy paws on it
You’ll need a card reader to be able to transfer any money out, but they won’t send you one, you have to request it. And then request it again. And then again. About 3 weeks later you will get 3 turn up at your house, then maybe you can actually send money out of your business bank account.
Like half my exes, they avoid answering the phone
You call at 7pm, wait around for 10 mins then give up.
They claim to be “experiencing high volume of calls” – but since this message playback is always on by default, the logical conclusion is they are just understaffed and hope you go away. Except the only way to get a cheque book sent to you is to call them. Maybe change the message to “we have your money, now fuck off and stop bothering us” – more honest.
If you stop staring at your mobile, they bounce your cheques
This is the one that really made their idiocy plain:
Yeah, £12k of my cash that I had to trade part of my increasingly slim mental health for, like a Johnny Mnemonic slowly descending into spasticity.
I am working (don’t judge me, it is not something I am proud of) and these fools give me 2.5 hours to respond to a text, or they will decline a cheque!?!??
Yeah, if I am not hunched over my phone, like all the sponge brained chimps who designed this system, I have to write another cheque? Apparently so. Fuck a doodle do.
*Maybe* I am working somewhere I can’t just whip out my mobile.
*Maybe* I have to have it on silent.
*Maybe* I don’t really like mobiles, and don’t consider it necessary to tape one to my groin, waiting for the next message to stimulate me.
*Maybe* I only look at it when I go for a shit in the late afternoon.
*Not maybe* Natwest are a bunch of useless cunts, who you should avoid trying to do business with.
*Credit for the term “ShatWest” goes to Simon Peterkin who had the displeasure of working for them once upon a time. He used to count the money they were probably hoarding whilst their customers vainly tried to get it back from them.