Do you ever just watch what you are doing, like rubbernecking a car accident, and know it is wrong, know you should stop, but just can’t muster the willpower or even desire to do so?
Yea, that was me yesterday sending a nasty email to my company and personal bank, PNC.
Why am I using the actual name of the offending bank, PNC (there, I’ve said it PNC PNC PNC PNC!), rather than just saying, “my regional bank” or some vanilla-sounding euphemism? Aren’t I worried about getting in trouble?
I have 3 reasons why I am not worried about getting sued by PNC for writing this blog:
- No one really reads my blog except for my dad, my husband, and, periodically, my daughters, and I am only mildly concerned that one of them would sue me or “dime” me out.
- I’m pretty sure you can only prove defamation if what you are saying is not true, and I have no intentions of offering any untruths about PNC or how they operate.
- I have the world’s best lawyer, Eliot Wagonheim, who will probably send me a nasty email, letter to follow, for writing this anyway, now that I’ve tagged him in it.
Suffice it to say that PNC has fallen down in its responsiveness to dealing with a problem with my company’s online account. Back in day, I used to have expectations that my reaching out with issues to my bank would be met with concern and action right away, meaning as soon as I brought said issues to the proper person’s attention. Over time, PNC adjusted my expectations downward, so that I hoped to get a response within a day of problem notification. More time passed, more lowering expectations to a few days, then a week, then two weeks. Now a month!?? Come on, you guys are killing me here! (figuratively, not literally, don’t sue me)
The latest outrage? The main contact, the branch manager for a huge, important, “premier” PNC Baltimore branch, with whom I have been working to try to fix a glitch online, had not returned numerous voice messages nor responded to increasingly impatient emails from me. No “auto responders” or “vacation messages” to alert me that anything other than being ignored was going on. No options to press one for said manager’s assistant. Not even another phone number to call for immediate service.
Eventually, I called the branch and asked to speak to Mr. Manager (see how cagey I am, going around the direct route?), only to find out that he left his position with the bank 2 weeks ago!
Ok, what? You’re kidding me. This is not Ma and Pa’s General Store and Bank here. This is a multi-billion dollar regional bank. Is there an IT department? Did this manager have a boss? Was anyone paying attention to the fact that this former employee’s email and voice mail were still operating and receiving messages to which no one was responding (caveat, maybe all the other messages and emails were responded to, just not mine!).
As I’m stewing in my righteous indignation, I know that the email I am writing to Mr. Former Branch Manager’s boss is setting the wrong tone, ala Dale Carnegie, to get an appropriate and favorable response. I am helpless against my impotent rage, however, and proceed blindly down the path of spleen venting, sarcasm, and, yes, insults.
While I feel Dale’s celestial disapproving and disappointed headshake, a sneaky, unlovable and mean part of me thinks, F&#@ YOU TOO, DALE!