One of the differences in my personality vs my husband’s is that I expect to figure things out as I go, and he prefers to know things in advance. Say we are going to a concert in the park. He will go online, map out the directions, look at parking. He will probably visit the park website to see if there is any information about parking. This is all fine and good and useful. I, on the other hand, would probably plug the park address into my navigator on the way to the concert and figure out parking when I get there. I trust that most things will be easy enough to figure out as you go along, and I think I’ve mainly been right about that. This is not to say that my husband’s methodology is wrong – and it has plenty of benefits. It’s just different.
When it was time to wire our down payment to the title company, I figured it would be pretty intuitive. Just go to the bank with the wiring instructions, and the money would be wired. Easy peasy lemon squeeze. My reasoning is that banks deal with this kind of thing all the time. Sending a wire may be an unusual occurrence for us, but this is something banks do all the time. There must be systems in place.
My husband was not willing to leave it at that and had me ask the title company agent what we should do. (He was in the hospital, so I was left to this task.) The title company agent told me that we needed to go in a day or two early, to make sure the money was wired on the date of closing, but that any teller should be able to make the wire transfer. This satisfied me, and since I was the one doing the actual wire transfer, I felt good about it.
This, my friends, is what is known as “foreshadowing.”
But. If a blog is good for anything, it is for sharing one’s most humiliating moments publicly and in perpetuity.
Two days before our closing, I went to the bank.
I need to pause for a moment and describe the bank to you. You walk in the door and are immediately greeted by a small welcome desk. I have been a patron at this bank for more than a decade and I don’t think I have ever seen a human at the welcome desk, but it is there just in case. The welcome desk is positioned in roughly the center of the bank. To the left are offices; to the right is a big upside-down-L-shaped bank of counters behind which the tellers stand. There are spaces for at least eight tellers; on this day there were two tellers in attendance which is neither here nor there but between that and the welcome desk, I’m guessing this branch may have staffing issues. In front of the tellers is a big open space for patrons to wait in a cordoned off multi-server queue. There is also a large desk in this area that has pens, deposit slips, and advertisements for various services the bank offers; this desk does not feature prominently in the story to follow, but I included it in the drawing so I feel like I need to describe it to you. I have included a rendering of the interior of the bank for your reference. It is not to scale.
Two days before the closing on our new house, I went to the bank. I stood in line to wait for a teller. One teller was, I think, counting money using a very loud machine. Thpthpthpthpthpthpthp went the bills as the machine organized them into neat stacks. The only other teller was helping a very elderly man who had visible hearing aids. He was having trouble communicating with the teller and kept asking her what she’d said. I felt bad for this poor guy who could hardly hear, especially with all the noise of the money counting machine, which would fall silent and then comically renew its thpthpthp efforts every time the teller began to speak.
When I’d arrived, it was just me and one other person. But as I waited for the elderly man ahead of me to finish his halting interaction with the teller, people filed in behind me. The second teller finished counting money and took her position at the drive through window. The elderly man finished his business and I was next.
I explained to the teller that I needed to wire money for a down payment on a house.
“Oh,” she said, “mumble mumble something.”
Aha. So it wasn’t that the elderly man was hard of hearing, it was that the teller did not know how to project her voice through the plexiglass window and across the counter. Or perhaps a lethal combination of both.
I asked her to repeat herself.
“I can’t help you with that,” she said, more loudly, and in that forced-calm way that makes it seem like it’s my fault for not being able to hear her. “You need to meet with a banker.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’d like to meet with a banker then.”
“You have to go sign in on the whiteboard,” she said.
“The whiteboard?”
She motioned toward the front of the bank. “The whiteboard. Right when you come in. At the front, by the door.”
Okay. I thanked her and went back to the front of the store and looked for the whiteboard.
Let’s all take a minute and ask ourselves what a whiteboard might look like. This is what I pictured:
I could not find a whiteboard near the front of the bank. I looked around, scanning the walls, scanning the welcome desk.
“Right there,” the teller called. She had been watching me and was now directing me across the heads of many people waiting for her.
I looked. I turned in a circle, panic building as I continued to not see a whiteboard. Or anything resembling a whiteboard. Or even a clipboard or a sign up sheet or a notepad. The teller pointed, which was, ironically, pointless, because she was all the way across the room. “Right there! Right in front of you! The whiteboard!”
Internet, I cannot even describe to you my bafflement. There was a desk and NOTHING ON IT. Where was this whiteboard that she could see and I could not? It was not on the desk, it was not on the floor. I was sure – SURE – that the teller thought it was there, because it was normally there, but maybe no one had put it out yet that morning? I could feel the eyes of all the people in the line, waiting for their banking needs to be addressed by this lone teller or perhaps waiting to find out how long we could keep up this hilarious prank.
“RIGHT THERE,” the teller yelled across the bank. Finally, in a fit of descriptive genius she said, “Leaning against the wall!”
I looked to my left. Against the wall indeed something leaned. Was it a whiteboard? Apparently, in this teller’s mind, it was. I will let you be the judge:
I will share my opinion: This is not a whiteboard. This is a fucking A-frame sign that my eyes dismissed as an advertisement.
The sign was leaning against the wall just to the left of the door. Leaning, out of eyeline, as though it had been closed up for the day. It was not standing on top of the welcome desk, which would not have transformed it into a whiteboard, but would possibly have caught my eye.
I have added an X to the diagram of the bank, indicating the location of the not-a-whiteboard:
“This?” I asked, gesturing to the sign that I had not even acknowledged because it bore so tenuous a relationship to the word “whiteboard” in my mind, my face by now aflame and my pulse rapid in my throat. The horde of bank patrons looked on as the teller said, in tones of my-god-I-thought-I’d-have-to-hit-you-over-the-head-with-it, “Yes.”
I like to think that I would have eventually noticed and examined the sign, had I not been so completely befuddled by the spotlight of the teller’s attention. But perhaps I really am that dumb; who’s to say.
“Oh I see,” I said, not sure whether I was speaking to her or the other patrons or myself, “I just scan it and then sign in that way?”
A woman materialized behind the welcome desk. She would have been much more welcome, to me at least, a few moments prior to this little drama.
“Hi,” she said smoothly. “If you just scan the QR code, you’ll be able to sign in. You’ll get a few questions and I can walk you through how to answer them.”
I was so flustered I could hardly see. My hands were trembling under the pressure of all those eyes. But I managed to open my camera and scan the QR code, like the tech-savvy millennial I pretend to be.
“It should pre-load a number in your text messages, and you just hit send,” the woman directed, her voice low and soothing as though I might at any moment startle and take flight or maybe bare my teeth at her and growl. She was there to avert another scene as much as she was to help.
I dutifully sent the text; I was so discombobulated that I honestly don’t know if I could have figured out what to do by myself.
I understand and value technology. I do. But just because a technological tool may make simplify or improve workflow for the staff of a company doesn’t mean it is useful or workable for its customers. If I hadn’t been so publicly floundering, I don’t know that I would have gotten any help. I might still be there, in that bank, looking for an invisible whiteboard.
“You’ll get a text,” the woman explained, “and you just need to answer ‘yes.'”
A few long seconds passed and I got a reply text with some ridiculously simple question, like “Do you have an appointment today? 1. Yes 2. No” and the woman, reading over my shoulder said, “Now, type in a 2 and hit send.” She walked me through the remaining questions, all equally basic – “What are you here to do? 1. Deposit 2. Set up account 3. Withdrawal 4. Other” and “What is your name?” and “Do you have an account here?” etc. I could feel the eyes of the remaining patrons on me, curious to learn just how much help I really needed or possibly feeling grateful they were safely on the other side of the crowd control stanchions and far away from this check-in process.
Finally, I reached the end of the text questions – the “sign in process” – and I got a text that said, “Thank you! A banker will be with you shortly!”
That’s when the calming woman said, “Great! Thank you for signing in. I can help you right now.”
Picture me blinking rapidly as though something had short-circuited in my brain.
I followed her back to her office. We sat down. I explained to her why I was there: we would be closing in two days, my title company advised me to come and set up the wire in advance.
“Oh, we can’t pre-schedule a wire transfer,” she said.
I stared at her. “But… we haven’t signed closing documents yet. I don’t want to wire the money until the date of closing.”
She nodded. “I understand. But the wire transfer occurs the same day we schedule it.” She left her office briefly to double check that this was true with a colleague.
When she returned, she smiled at me pityingly.
“You’ll have to come back in two days,” she said. “I’ll make an appointment for you, so you don’t have to go through that again.”
OH MY GOD
First of all, I just imagined a whole lineup of seniors or people without the tech wherewithal to figure out a QR code. Like, imagining my MIL standing there trying to figure something like that out. I remember getting my first covid shot, and you were supposed to fill in a form via a QR code, and the mass confusion of so many people in line made me wonder who thought that would be a good idea.
NOT TO MENTION a welcome person right there who could, you know, sign you in. That is insanely frustrating and I’m screaming into the void with you.
My mother refuses to use QR codes and in fact only recently got a smartphone! I guess this sign gives the option to text without the QR code as well but STILL. How is this a customer focused experience?!
Nicole, I was just going to write this exact response! First, no senior can figure that out. My mother would lose her mind if her bank made her go through something like that and never, ever could do it. And then, like you said, all of this jumping through hoops when the person at the desk could just … sign you in!
Suzanne, I am so frustrated on your behalf. That is a sign, not a whiteboard. The fact that they can’t schedule the wire transfer in advance. Argh!!
That’s crazy.
😂
Well, I feel bad for you but I’m laughing. First because the way you describe the whole thing is funny, but also because it’s SO STUPID! I mean… wouldn’t it be easier to just have a pen and paper on the welcome desk, for people to sign in? And why in the world did the banker have you go through that whole rigamarole… and then they couldn’t even schedule the transfer… well… at least you have your “appointment” for next time now. Good luck!!!
It was hilariously bizarre Jenny! And the way my jaw dropped when the banker made me do through the whole rigamarole for nothing!!!
No. The banker should have just called you over and bypassed all that. I don’t understand how this process is easier or more beneficial for anyone! This is a waste of technology except now that bank has your name and phone number to do what exactly?!?
Ooooh good point! I didn’t even consider the data collection aspect of it but you are right!
I (obviously) agree that this whole process cannot be The Best Way™️ – I do wonder whether they’ve chosen to stick to this path because it’s an easy way to be able to monitor demand and therefore quantify the appropriate staffing needs?
No words, Suzanne. NO WORDS.
(Also, you wrote about this this brilliantly. So thank you for both making me laugh and also fear for the future of humanity.)
Ditto Nicole: SCREAMING INTO THE VOID.
Thanks Elisabeth! It was quite an experience 😂
My husband works in an industry that has a good percentage of Amish customers – over 30% in some areas, for reference. His marketing department decided to advertise events with a QR code signup – and no dates or location even listed outside the QR! Technology is amazing but you have to know your target audience. And people visiting a bank in person are maybe not all technology-savvy folks.
That is so bonkers!!!! Sometimes it really feels like companies have no clue who their target audience is!
That is NOT A WHITEBOARD! Good grief. I am all fired about about words and meanings this morning (I’m an editor, so I often am, but looking at a government form that has a date at the top when it expires, and it’s dated last year, but the website waves that away and says keep using it anyway, so what does “expires” mean, then?), and that just pushes me over the edge. I totally get why you were flustered looking for a whiteboard because that isn’t one.
Ahem. And then that woman standing there, making you go through the whole rigamarole, when she’s the one to “help” you? Argh.
I am also picturing my mother facing that QR code. She has an old flip phone, so no scanning codes, and although technically it can text, she does not. I hope the woman would have helped her anyway, but would she have?
Ugh all around.
Yes! Words mean something! And I am a little peeved that no one trained the teller how to direct people to the sign-in station. I can’t be the only person who went mistakenly to a teller when I really needed a banker!
That’s completely nuts. As a retired teacher, I’m extremely offended that they would call that a white board. What a travesty! At least you now have an appointment. eye roll I too had some bank adventures when I had to go shut down my late husband’s accounts. It was a nightmare. Hope it all works out as planned!
Nuts is right Margaret! Banks seem to have some of the most baffling systems.
I’m not THAT old and I have NO idea how to get my phone to do anything with a QR code. Also, that is NOT a whiteboard. What a silly thing to call it.
SOOO…we also had a very nervewracking wire transfer with our bank when we bought our house! The teller didn’t know what she was doing and we obviously did not, either. There’s no notice when the transfer happens, either, so we actually showed up to our closing without really being certain if we’d done it correctly (spoiler: we had).
https://ngradstudent.blogspot.com/2017/08/buying-our-house-part-iv-closing.html
THAT IS NOT A WHITEBOARD. I would’ve cried. I feel this for you. 😘
Oh, Suzanne!! While we all vehemently agree that that is NOT a whiteboard, her direction to “sign in” on the board was also super unhelpful — that implies physically signing your name. If only she had said “you’ll need to scan the QR code on that sign to check in”. If only they actually had someone standing at the welcome desk to begin with, or if the person standing there could have just asked you what you needed rather than waiting for you to go through the whole process. Ridiculous!! But thanks for the laugh!
Oof! Been there done that. Seriously, I feel like every step of the house buying & selling process is EXACTLY like this.
One more vote for “that is NOT a whiteboard”. Also I laughed out loud at the banker making you go through all that, then saying she could help you. Ridiculous. During Covid when travel opened up, Canada had an app everyone needed to use to enter. It was so confusing that the first time we sat in our car while the customs agent talked us through it, didn’t look at anything we entered, then said ok go ahead. ? Like what?? My feeling was there are a lot of people without smartphones, and that don’t use apps easily. So frustrating!!
Oh. My. God. That is definitely NOT a whiteboard and someone needs to let that teller in on that little secret. Holy cow. And then…the banker – who obviously had nothing to do but direct you on the sign up process, should have just asked “How can I help you?” *deep breath* Some days, I really beginning to wonder if there is any hope left for our species.
On the bright side, you did weave the whole incident into a masterful post.
OMFG! You must send this post to the bank manager, not that they will give one crap. You are so right about the adoption of technology to make things easier for the company and not the customer. I do agree with Gigi though, it was a masterful post.
Huh. When I bought a place last year the realtor told me to wire the money the day before. At my bank, I just went to a teller and she did it, with the sheet of instructions and numbers that I had printed out from the realtor.
So many of these “innovations” now don’t seem to make things more helpful! What was the point of the text message signin if the banker was right there?
OMGGGG. I hate tasks like that. HATE THEM. There are ALWAYS rules that I didn’t know about and don’t understand, and it makes me SO WORRIED.
Gah, the lack of customer service!
Wiring the $ was so stressful when we closed on our home. Not knowing ‘the rules’ I used a check written to myself to transfer funds one account to the one I wanted to wire from for the closing payment. It takes a certain amount of time, like two full weeks, for the funds from a check to clear in this case. The bank wouldn’t wire the money before then. I cut it very close with the timing. The added stress was that The move was in fall 2020 and my daughter had COVID-symptoms the week of our move. Turned out not to be COVID, thank goodness. My stress level was sky high!
1. THAT IS NOT A WHITEBOARD
2. ANY process where someone has to come over and help you through the process, when instead they could have just said “Come with me,” is a BAD PROCESS. This reminds me of the process for signing in at our eye doctor’s office, where a receptionist needs to help EVERY SINGLE PERSON, EVERY SINGLE TIME, because it is so unintuitive/misleading; it also takes MUCH LONGER than checking in directly with the receptionist used to take. I do not know why they continue to use this process.
YES. A bad process indeed. And so many of them!
LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IS SAYING THAT IS NOT A WHITEBOARD! I hope you feel validated by how appalled we are. And from reading my blog, I think you know how I feel about QR codes. I loathe them.
So we avoided the wire shennanigans by getting a cashiers check for the closing costs. We padded it a little to make sure we weren’t short and then they refunded us the difference on the spot. Wires are kind of complicated IMO! I hope that things go smoothly the day of the closing when you schedule the wire. What nonsense you experienced!
QR codes are getting out of control!
The wire went very smoothly, despite the lead-up nonsense.
OMG. That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in a while… Not your inability to find the whiteboard because THERE WAS NO WHITEBOARD… but then having the lady have you go through the check-in process, when she could have just taken you over to the desk and helped you right there. Is this for real? What do people do without a smartphone? (Yes, these people exist. Let Rachel (rachelinwales.com) chime in on this).
I am flabbergasted and annoyed for you, esp. because you couldn’t get done what you needed to get done.
She said that the wire transfer occurs the same day they schedule it. So, why couldn’t she schedule it for two days later? MAKES NO SENSE. I can schedule a freakin’ payment to my CC, but they can’t schedule a wire transfer??
I agree with you, San! Seems like you should easily be able to schedule something in advance! If we can set our emails to send on a specific date, why not wires?!
OMG. I think I would have screamed, “THAT IS NOT A WHITE BOARD.” by that point. What the heck?! That’s so annoying!
Also, I am surprised that you are the go-with-the-flow person in the relationship and your husband is the one who worries about logistics (I always feel like there is one and the other, haha). My anxiety comes out in full force when it comes to logistics so I’m more like your husband where I need to know ALL OF THE DETAILS beforehand.
Are you effing kidding me?
A whiteboard, that is NOT.
Signing in RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE BANKER who will be helping you. Was that necessary?
I wire money quite often (on my laptop and in the bank) and I’ve never been able to do it ahead of time.
Suzanne, this sounds like a horrible bank experience. Will there be more to this story?
So my brain just exploded. I am so sorry. My credit union closed the branch closest to me without any notice. None. One day it was the branch, and the next it was… a pet supply store?
Also? I assume if I were planning to rob the bank, I would indicate that I do not have an appointment, then select “Other” for reason? (Sorry, couldn’t resist. Also I am really tired right now.)