Scripted thought, stooges and brass monkeys

I did a blog about the wonders of Customer Relations Management since technology was applied and it became a science. Spoke too soon.

I have several credit cards with a bank. They mounted a campaign to compel customers to “go green” by switching from printed/mailed statements to on-line, saving the trees, etc. In reality, of course, the real green would be the money they saved on postage, printing and lettershop.

I resisted because I probably wouldn’t remember to pay if I didn’t find those statements in my mailbox. They countered with the accounts could be set up to email reminders before the due dates. Okay, I’ll play.

Months later, and unrelated, they sent me a replacement for one of the cards. The explanation was nonspecific, so I assume they had a security breach. Whatever.

Subsequently, I received notice of a late charge on that account. I hadn’t received a reminder, which I was now used to getting. I went online to check the account settings. When they issued the new card, they hadn’t set it up for the reminders. If the original card was set up that way, wouldn’t one assume the replacement should be?

I went to their web site to find the customer service number. I was diverted to a number of FAQ lists, but finally drilled down to the point where they reluctantly coughed up the phone number. That ran me through the customary gauntlet until I could reach a live person.

I explained the problem and requested the refund of the late fee. She said that they were very sorry, but refunding late fees was impossible.

Incorrect. It’s possible. You’re just unwilling to do it. I said that it was their error that caused the late payment, so they were responsible.

She countered that I was responsible whether or not I received a reminder. I understand that, but beg to differ. Our agreement was that I would switch to electronic statements because they said they would send reminders. I upheld my end of the contract. They didn’t.

She didn’t see the point, or didn’t try to. She reverted to the policy that refunds were impossible. Fine. Let me talk to your supervisor. She refused, saying that the supervisor was governed by the same policies as her.

Okay, let’s try this. You can issue the refund, keep my accounts on electronic and have a satisfied customer, maintaining your profit on me. Or, you can stonewall, in which case I will switch all my accounts back to mail statements (at your expense) and move my other financial products to the other banks I use, decreasing your profits from this customer by much more than the late fee. And, before you answer, I’ll give you a lifeline just like they do on television. You can consult with someone who might know if the bank prefers to make or lose money.

She went with the first option. Whatever the investment is in all that high tech CRM, I’m guessing they’re not getting a return on it. Not my problem.

I also blogged, tongue-in-cheek, about the Larry Fine museum starting upstairs from a restaurant and evolving to a shrine of Three Stooges memorabilia. This week, I was notified that I was being inducted into a hall-of-fame and invited to lunch to provide personal data.

I’m usually not big on such things, but this one was coming from venerable peers, lending it more meaning. And, there was the free lunch.

So, we plowed through the relevant details. They concluded by telling me how exciting this is and not just for me. My children could visit it and bring their children. Which raises the question…

“Uh, where is this place?”

“Upstairs.”

“Upstairs? I don’t understand.”

They pointed to the ceiling of the restaurant. “Our offices are up there.” I thought about Larry Fine and it must’ve showed. “But, we are negotiating for space for it on the riverfront.”

That’s okay. Poetic justice.

This supports a previous blog more than contradicts. I wrote about people using “Catch-22” without knowing it comes from a novel. Yesterday, a friend employed the metaphor, “cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah. Pretty freakin’ cold.” Hard to argue with that.

In the days of sailing men o’ war, balls were stacked in a pyramid beside the cannons to prevent them from rolling around the deck. The layer quantities were 16, 9, 4 and 1. Obviously, if the bottom layer wasn’t contained, the pile would be unstable. So, a metal plate was affixed to the deck with dimples for the 16 balls.

Iron didn’t work out, since the balls would rust to it. So, brass was used for the plate. When it got exceedingly cold, the dimples were less pronounced and the balls rolled off. The term for such a plate was “monkey.”

If you’re still with me, you might want to review your life plan. :^)