We headed out at 5:30 p.m. After all, we live only about five minutes away or so, from our friendly neighborhood bank branch. The drive-through closes at 6:00, so that's plenty of time, isn't it?
Not so fast. Just as we began pulling into the drive-through, a disconcerting sight greeted us. The shades had already been pulled down over the double windows.
"Pull around to the front," the Squawker suggested. "Maybe the lobby's still open. We might make it yet."
"I hope so, because it's nearly a quarter to six now." I duly swung around to the front, where somebody or other's Jeep still stood, parked out front.
For a moment, my heart skipped beat in hope. As any dedicated last minute straggler knows, once you're past those glazed double doors...They have to deal with you, even if it's one minute to closing, your brain suggests, if only to get you out of there. And get home faster.
Once again, not so fast. One hopeless tug at the double doors quickly confirmed that we were well and truly out of luck.
A renewed wave of irritation flooded my brain, once I sulked back to the car. "What the hell's going on here?" I asked Squawker. "They've moved the goalposts on us. Again!"
"What do you mean?"
"The hours they've posted now say the lobby closes at 5:00, which has always been true. But the drive-through now shuts down at 5:30."
"Really? What does anybody do during working hours? That explains one thing, though." The Squawker had been doing some quick 'n' dirty online research, via the phone, and held it up to show me.
Now, it was my turn to ask, "What do you mean?"
"The downturn branch closes at 3:00. And, as you know, there's a branch in the Matthew's store, about 15 minutes from here..."
"Not anymore," I said. "They took that one out of there, completely. It's been gone for a couple years now. I don't remember them shouting that news from the rooftops, either."
What else could we do, except slink home, and concede defeat? I checked our bank's Facebook page, to see if they'd revealed those new hours, but no such luck. Nowhere did I find any announcement of those reduced hours. All their promotions, though, were present and correct.
As aggravating as this example sounds, I can recall worse ones, such as the surprise call we got a couple years ago, from our local independent pharmacy.
The owner had just sold out to a mega-chain, and guess what? They were closing for good, in two hours, so better pick your drugs while you can. And oh, yeah, thanks for the memories. I'm not going to recount the Squawker's response, which isn't printable in a family newspaper, as they say. At least we were home, when the call came in. I shudder to think of the alternative.
That particular closing time stuck through most of the pandemic. It's only recently that I've seen their hours creeping down, down, down, steadily and surely. First, to 6:30 p.m. Then, to six o'clock, and now this, 5:30 p.m., with nary a peep from our friendly neighborhood bank branch. So much for any notions of community.
In one way, it's not a big deal, since I'm still working from home, as I always did, long before the pandemic. Whether I'm cashing a check, or dropping a deposit, I just have to make time for the task.
But, in another way, it is a big deal. All their bright, shiny rhetoric aside ("Blah blah blah, where the customer is always number one, blah blah blah, your community bank's keeping you in mind, blah blah blah, service is our middle name, blah blah blah, your convenience is our command, blah blah blah, doing business with us has never been easier'), these incidents serve as a reminder, as if we ever needed one, that it's all about themselves, first and foremost.
If they could run the bank with only one teller, they would. If they could run it remotely, with Cheeky Charlie the Chatbot keeping you company, they would. (No need to pay overtime, nor those pesky personal breaks, right?) And if they could get by with shorter hours (4:30 p.m. closing time, anyone?), they'd run that game, too.
Remember when banks competed on who could offer the most appealing interest rate? I just eyeballed my quarterly notice. I've earned four cents on my nest egg, it seems. That little factoid alone sums up the whole discussion for me.
In the end, you're just stuck dealing with the inconvenience, because they're passing the problem onto you. After all, you don't usually have anywhere else to go. And it's not like the token competitor or two would do a better job.
You're the customer, so it's on you to find a workaround, right? Their motto may as well be, "Hold the access, pass the inconvenience." Just another unpleasant fact of life that we're struggling to deal with, I'm afraid. I only hope that they don't start closing on Fridays. --The Reckoner
Take III: The Reckoner>
