When The Wife and I were travelling in November for my brother's wedding, we ended up losing our Wachovia debit card. Well, to be honest, I ended up losing our Wachovia debit card because I left it at a bar. I know, you're thinking that was a pretty neat trick. Anyways, we departed the next morning at 7am, and didn't realize we'd left the card until we were 350 miles away.

So we promptly call Wachovia and have them send us a new card. While we had them on the phone, we also told them about our new address (since that was to take effect within the next day or so). Everybody says 'Thank you for your business', 'Have a nice day', and all this other great stuff.

Three weeks goes by and I call Wachovia, asking about the status of my new card. Whilst reconfirming the address, I realize they've mispelled the street name. We correct this problem, and I double check. "It's H as in Harry, A as in Albert...". Everybody says 'Thank you for your business', 'Have a nice day', and all this other cheesy stuff.

Another three weeks goes by and I call Wachovia, asking about the status of my second new card. Whilst reconfirming the address, I realize they've mispelled the street name. Again. We correct this problem, and I double check. "It's H as in Highly, A as in Annoying...". They promise to overnight the third new debit card. Everybody says 'Thank you for your business', 'Have a nice day', and all this other bullshit. That was Thursday.

I called Wachovia this afternoon, asking about the status of my third new card. Whilst reconfirming the address, I realize they've mispelled the street name. Again, again. (I mean, this time it wasn't like they had transposed or misheard a letter; there were actually letters added to the name. It was like an extra two syllables too long. I look over at The Wife and choke the imaginary chicken. This is unbelievable) We correct this problem, and I double check. "It's H as in You're a Fucking Moron, A as in Do You Speak English...". They promise to overnight the fourth new debit card and then proceed to give me a tracking number. Everybody says 'Thank you for your business', 'Have a nice day', and all this other compulsory language to avoid me mailing them a flaming bag of my own shit.

Five minutes ago I tracked the package. According to the UPS itinerary, the tracking number Wachovia gave me was for the package they sent out with my third new card in it; not the fourth new card that I just requested. Reading down further I see notes about the address being messed up, and then being corrected prior to delivery. Then I notice something odd about the tracking detail: My package status is 'DELIVERED' at 9:39am this morning. Which is funny since The Wife was home all day.

I call UPS, and they tell me that it was delivered to X address, a place I haven't lived in at least three years. I shit a brick that weighs two tons and smells of sulfur. Why the hell they sent it there I have no idea. I mean, I didn't even have this bank account then! So here I am, on the phone with UPS. They promise me that they'll run out there and get my package. Tomorrow. Hey, great. How about I just bend over, grab my ankles like so, and you drive one of those big brown trucks right up my stupid asshole! Yee-Haw!

I hang up with them thoroughly convinced that I am starring in my very own Donald fucking Duck cartoon, while some lucky moron is out spending our money on a lifetime supply of Slim Jims and back-issues of Guns 'n Ammo.

I call Wachovia back to make sure all of the cards that have been sent (except for the one I requested today) are listed as lost/stolen. They confirm that they are listed as such; but what little faith I have left in Wachovia right now doesn't even permit me to believe that they exist, let alone have control over this comedy of errors.

Can you believe this shit? I'm so glad this bank account is not our main checking account, and as soon as it is no longer useful (as of tonight I use that term loosely) we're cutting all ties with Wachovia. I mean, it's one fucking checking account you guys; it's not rocket science. To put this in perspective, all of our other banking activities (home/auto insurance, credit, checking, investment, savings) are all through one bank. Through all the years of relocation, lost cards, new car/home purchases, all that stuff; this bank has never missed a step. They're spinning all these plates and have never managed to plumb this depth of bumbling fuckstickery.

Therefore, in light of the experience of the past six weeks, I rest my case against Wachovia as The Worst Bank Ever. If you work for them and do not consider yourself a drooling idiot, you might want to find a new job. I'm sorry, I really am, because I realize Wachovia may have been a step up for you after working the Tilt-a-Whirl for all those years in the travelling carnival; but you're a fucking moron, and that's pretty much the only place a society can afford put its morons.

Posted by: shank at 07:12 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 920 words, total size 5 kb.