THAT’S it, I’ve had it with banks.
And I’m outraged enough to write about it. My countless bad experiences have left me disappointed and downright suspicious of the Irish banking system.
One of my earliest such experiences was when I was going abroad for the first time. I was 19, in college, and heading to France for the summer. In order to book flights, etc. online, I applied to my bank for a credit card, which was approved. However, when I applied for a Cirrus card, which is basically just an ATM card that can be used to withdraw money abroad, I was refused on the basis that I was a student.
So they’ll give students a credit card, with which they could potentially rack up thousands of euro of debt, but won’t give them an ATM card with which they can only withdraw their own funds. It’s logic like that that led us to where we are today.
Most recently, after having to leave Halifax (the only good guys in a country of crooks), I discovered that opening a bank account these days is like agreeing to sign over every single human right you have. You give up your privacy and your right to be treated equally and in a fair and just manner, and notions of respect and civility seem quaint.
I had come to the first bank prepared, with proof of identification, proof of address, three month’s bank statements and three recent pay slips. What I didn’t expect was the lengthy application form wanting to know everything but my bra size. It was several pages in length, and I sat laboriously filling in dreary details... until I came across a very odd section. They wanted to know what other financial institutions I banked with, what type of accounts I had with them, and how much money I had in each account.
I queried the relevance of this with the male staff member. He gave me some nonsense about wanting to assess my current financial situation. I said it was none of his business; it’s a current account, not a multi-million euro loan. I’m already required to provide recent bank statements and pay slips, and they’re required to do a credit check on me, so what the hell more do they need?!
If I pay my bills and mortgage every single month, have never defaulted on any payments, and have never been overdrawn, what business is it of theirs exactly how much money I have, who I have it with, and how much I spend?
He finally agreed that the section didn’t have to be filled out at all. Yet there it was, included in the application form, with nothing to say that it was voluntary. Just a cheeky way for them to be nosey.
It’s things like this that ensure my relationship with banks remains sour. They took everything we had, and then brought our beautiful country to its knees. And now they want to know where we’re hiding all the rest of our money so they can get their pilfering little paws on that too. I wouldn’t be surprised if, the next time I walk into a bank branch, I’m asked to empty the contents of my wallet and sign a contract that says they can, at any time, come to my home to inspect under my mattress.
Thus, being thoroughly unimpressed with the bank’s tactics, I wandered a few doors down to a different bank, who simply copied my documentation, asked a few quick questions about my requirements, and opened an account (admittedly after a very cheeky question about who I had my mortgage with... but I let that slide).
After that, I was left wondering if I’d been wrong about banks. Was it just me? Was I just being melodramatic? Was I...
Oh, hang on, there’s someone at the door. “Hello?”
“Mattress inspector.”