Fun with banking

The other day, I deposited three checks into my bank account. Money I would soon need to pay my mortgage, bills etc. Rather than use the ATM, I went in to the branch (ok, the grocery store) to talk to a real live person. People are better, right? If you hand your money to a person and they hand you a receipt, you should be able to count on the transaction as having been successful, don't you think?

Surely there would be no need to verify that the deposit was made.

I went online and checked anyway.

No deposit.

No deposit!

Call bank.

Give all my information to the non-human robot so that it may help me find the "right person" to talk to. After a very long wait (where is my money!), I am transferred to a live human being. Or so he claimed.

The first thing he wants to do is verify that I am, in fact who I say I am even though the robot has just verified this.

"Ma'am do you have your account number?"

"No, but I have my ATM number"

"Please give me your ATM number."

I do.

"And what is the name of the card holder?"

My name. I spell it.

"Ma'am that does not match the information in my system"

I beg your pardon?

I have had this account for over 20 years, I say. I use this card all the time. In fact, this is the only card I ever use.

We play the please verify your identity/card number name game again.

I lose the round - and the match.

"Ma'am I cannot give you any information about this account."

Is my husband's name on this account?

"I cannot give you any information about this account."

Brain quickly runs through my worst case scenario list and decides that my ATM number has been stolen. Someone is stealing my money RIGHT NOW.

Is there money being withdrawn now? I ask.

"I would strongly recommend you go to a branch and talk to a teller."

Panic.

The bank is only minutes away.

Inside, I try not to fly down the throat of the cute guy representing the bank that has lost my money and my identity. His cuteness is almost, but not quite wasted on me. In truth, it protects him. The cuteness charm has been shown in field studies to be effective against the dangerous fury known as Raging Mother of Two. I hand him my ATM card, my deposit receipt and tell him my tale of woe. I am literally shaking. Chill out girl. You're in the bank now. It's all Going To Be Alright. No one can steal your money while you're standing in the bank (er, grocery store) can they? 

He looks at his screen and shakes his head. No, you're right here, see? Right here. Then his manager comes up behind him, takes over the mouse and clicks on something else. She opens her eyes wide and they both start saying "oh" repeatedly. Not the "oh, we have a wonderful surprise for you" kind of oh. No, this is the "you are totally screwed" oh.

I hate that oh.

Long story short (I know, it's already too late to be saying things like that): the bank updates their computer system every six months or so and somehow along the way, who knows exactly when, don't bother us with the silly details, they lost some of their client information and now my family trust is solely in my husband's name. And to make things even more fun they made it so that while my physical ATM card (AKA the card I held in my hand) had MY name engraved in it, the virtual version of the card that shows up in their system shows my husband's name as being engraved in the card. Which makes him the Official Card Holder. Which is why they don't match.

They look at me with pity. Clearly I am not the first person to be erased by The System.

A few waves of the magic mouse accompanied by an offer to refinance my house, and I exist again.

Until the next upgrade.

Oh, and the deposit? That was accidentally deposited into our business account.