I don’t want to make a habit of posting on events in my personal life but the last week has been rather distressing due to this particular event; blogging on the subject seems a viable form of therapy, so here goes.
The day I returned from DC, I received the final payment from one of my clients (a very good client, who I sincerely hope is going to derive tremendous value from the project we worked on). The check was also pretty big, too, and a welcome surprise after a dreary bus ride.
The next day, I headed down to the bank, taking along some paperwork I had avoided for a while, which would enable me to accept checks in my married name (right now, I use my maiden name only).
Anyway, I decided to deal with the paperwork first. With my two kids waiting patiently, I talked three different people through the paperwork I had so that they could go ahead and add a name to my account. The person I originally spoke to did not have the authorization to make the change to my account so another person came over. She misheard my instructions (translated by her colleague) and was about to have me open a business account.
Another ten minutes after this, my kids now decidedly fidgety, the change had finally been made. I was pretty annoyed, though, and asked the woman at the desk about the check I had to deposit. The line for the tellers was pretty long.
“Can I just deposit this at the ATM?” It had my name and address on it after all. I’d managed to get a tiny blob of ink on the thing (occupational hazard), but the check looked (and was) perfectly legit (it had a tone of ’security features’ on it too).
“Go ahead, yes,” she said. She was pregnant and understood why I was asking, seeing my son leaning against the window, now definitely frustrated with waiting around for almost thirty minutes.
A minute, ninety seconds, at the ATM, my check is safe and sound. I do a quick calculation in my head. It should be cleared by the following week, Tuesday or Wednesday.
Okay, so I call on Saturday and verify this. “When will the check clear?” The banker says, “Monday you’ll get $400, that’s the second business day. Tuesday you’ll get the rest.”
Great.
Monday comes, however, and there’s no sign of my $400.
I call the bank. “Tomorrow.” But Tuesday my rent check is going through and I was told on Saturday that $400 would definitely clear by Monday. “Well,” I said, “please make sure there is a hold on my rent check so that it’s not put through until the funds from my deposit have cleared.” Since the bank had given me the wrong information, I figured this wasn’t such a ridiculous thing to ask. Apparently a note was put on the account to request that the check be held until the funds were cleared and there was no problem reported with the check. Why would there be?
But Tuesday morning, I log into my Citibank account and there you have it — overdrawn several hundred dollars and not even a trace of the deposit I’d made.
As you can imagine, I race to the phone and demand to speak to a supervisor. Where is the record of my deposit? “There was no deposit, just a cash deposit yesterday.” ‘No, there was a check deposit on Thursday. I know because I spoke to two other agents about it over the last few days.” “Sorry, ma’am.”
Fortunately, frantic as I was, I managed to find the receipt for the deposit with the envelope number, time, date. I also had the invoice section that came with the check. Ah ha, I thought. Not this time.
Well, miraculously, several “can I put you on hold”’s later, the agent came back and told me that the system was just updating, they had the check, in fact, and it would all be cleared by 9am Central Standard Time.
Phew!
I went back to bed.
I wake up a couple of hours later and resist the urge to log in to my account. I dutifully wait until 10am, make it 10.10am EST. I log in, but there it is again — overdrawn.
I’m on the phone again. This time I don’t have to ask to speak to a supervisor. “We’re sorry. The check was altered.”
“Altered?” “Altered, yes ma’am.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. We’ve had to send it back to you. We sent it back on the 10th, yesterday, and you’ll have to get it reissued.”
“It had a tiny ink stain on it!” I fume. “I showed it to one of the agents at the bank before I cashed it.”
“Sorry, but we think it’s a bad check.”
I lose it at this point and describe the check — not only does it have my name and address (so there’s no way to alter the name), it has, as I said, at least three security features to show it is a real check.
My heart sinks. I contact my client and tell them that I need to get a replacement check and that I’ll return the other one to them, voided out.
Nothing you can do, right? I spend the day trying not to think about the mess. Fortunately, though, my rent check is definitely covered. I confirm with the supervisor that there’s a note on the account that the rent check will clear and I’ll cover the overdraft in cash.
The next day is Wednesday and my husband is home. He’s pretty sick of the whole thing and feels bad that I’m a wreck over it. I’m about to go grocery shopping to again try and take my mind of this but before I leave the house, I log on to Citibank’s website one more time. Not sure why, precisely. Probably to confirm how much cash I need to put in the account. But when I log in, I see something every unusual. The check that was supposedly in the mail on August 10th (two days ago now), that I was to expect in five to ten business days, was actually back in my account. The rent check was returned, and i had been charged $34.
This all happened a week ago. As you can imagine, I was back on the phone, irrate, particularly because the Citibank representative told me that my check deposit was made on the 11th (“that’s why the rent check was returned, ma’am”). No, actually, I have the receipt for the deposit on the 6th and I confirmed three times that the rent check was on hold until the funds were available and then twice that it would be allowed to clear, under the circumstances, and I would cover the overdraft in cash.
Today I got a lovely little letter in the mail thanking me for my deposit on the 11th and confirming when the funds would be made available. Gee, thanks, Citibank. Tomorrow I plan to visit your branch with the copy of my deposit receipt, my lease (which explains about the late fee my landlord charges, “gee, that’s high”, said one of the telephone bankers, “I’ve heard about those landlords in New York…but try asking him if he’ll waive the fee”), and my cell phone, which has a log of all the calls to Citibank(!).
“But we credited you $70 already,” said the telephone bank supervisor. “I understand why you’re upset, I do. And I apologize.”
Well, Citibank, you’ve only given me back $70 of the $189 this mess has cost ($125 late fee + $34 Citibank fee + $30 landlord’s bank fee).
I accept your apology and I understand that mistakes happen (many, many mistakes and oversights). I feel for you, I really do. But I’m still going to sue you if you don’t give me the $119 you still owe me.