I’ve had personal and business accounts with National
Australia Bank (NAB) for over 20 years.
Over those years I’ve had mostly adequate service with the
occasional reminder that I was dealing with a monolith.
One experience has been fascinating. Here, for your
amusement and edification, is the story.
In November 2013 I decided to close an overdraft account, so
I paid it off in full (via an online transfer) and sent a notice to the bank,
via their “secure message” service, that I wanted to close the account.
The next day I received a reply thanking me, letting me know
that my enquiry was important, and that a “mortgage servicing representative”
would contact me within 2 days.
Naturally, I was gratified to know that my enquiry was
important. I would hate to have submitted an unimportant enquiry. I hadn’t
realised my instruction was just an enquiry, but I wasn’t going to be upset by
semantics.
The next day, I received another message, telling me that
the bank was “unable to close accounts via this channel,” and requesting me to
visit a branch, bringing with me photo identification.
I have to admit that I was a tad surprised. Over several
years, I had moved many thousands of dollars into and out of this account, and
other accounts I hold with the bank. Why, I wondered, could I authorise such
payments and transactions, but not carry out what seemed to me such a simple
request?
Being, perhaps, naïve, I sent another message, that asked,
simply, “Why?”
The answer I received did not answer my question, but it did
at least apologise for the inconvenience being foisted upon me. The message
said “We require to meet you face to face, to complete forms to close your
account.”
Was I, I wondered, being unreasonable? Perhaps the bank in
its wisdom had some good reason for asking me to attend in person to carry out a
sacred account-closing rite. And perhaps my question “Why?” was in some way
ambiguous, as it had not been answered.
So I sent another message: “Thanks, but this still does not
answer my question: Why?”

Of course I understood this predicament entirely, and
sympathised with the bank’s dilemma. Of course they needed paper forms to be
filled in! So I duly wrote: “Please mail me the account closure form and I’ll
sign it (witnessed if need be.)”
“There!” I thought, “problem solved.”
But no! The very next message, although it thanked me for
“writing to us about sending the account closure forms,” pointed out that
“these forms are located at branch,” and said “I’m sorry that we could not mail
these forms to you.” It also said “Request you to visit your nearest NAB
branch…”
The language, I noticed, was becoming somewhat brusque. An
icy tone was creeping into the messages. Perhaps I had – inadvertently of
course – upset somebody?
These messages, oddly, were from people whose signature blocks said they were “Digital Interactive Advisors.” I wondered why an “interactive
advisor,” and a “digital” one at that, would be advising me to not interact on
a digital channel.
The latest message also said that “If there is anything else we can
assist you with…” This, I thought, was particularly odd. Since I had not
actually been assisted with anything, how could I possibly be assisted with
anything else?
Our relationship had apparently entered stormy waters. My
next message said “I’m sorry you cannot mail the forms to me. I cannot visit my
nearest branch.” But I also held out an olive branch, a path towards a peaceful
resolution: “Presumably,” I wrote, “this is a cost-saving measure. I hereby
authorise you to deduct $0.55 from any one of my accounts to cover postage.”
(Yes, that was in the good old days, when a stamp cost a mere half a dollar or so.)
I felt I had been entirely reasonable, and was full of giddy
expectation of the imminent arrival of a suite of forms that I could sign, have
witnessed, and submit in the old-fashioned way, thereby achieving an entirely
satisfactory conclusion to this multi-week drama that had made my life so full
and interesting.
Alas, and imagine my disappointment at receiving yet another
message that “…you must attend an NAB branch along with your Drivers Licence…
as you must be ID’d to complete the request.”
Apparently an impasse had been reached. Despite my many
attempts, despite offering to cover postage, to have forms witnessed, and to
generally do anything (short of visiting “an NAB branch”), NAB was putting down
its foot, was refusing to acknowledge the legitimacy of its online channel, and
was generally being recalcitrant and uncompromising.
Since there was no money in the account, and I had no
intention of ever using it again, and had told the bank of my decision and
intent, I let the matter lie.
Nine months after instigating the request, NAB decided to
charge me $395 for “fees”.
Now their wily ways were clear! They never wanted me to
close the account! I'd been taken in by their clever ruse.
I wondered, then, what would have happened had I fallen into
their trap of attending “an NAB branch”. My drivers licence would have perhaps
proven inadequate or insufficient. The person who had the keys to the forms
cupboard would have been unavailable that day, having encountered illness or
accident or personal catastrophe. Or perhaps, in a clever Catch-22, I would
have been told that the account could not be closed “via the branch channel”’
and that I would have to apply online.
I can only bow before such superior tactics.
Like Dave in “2001-A space odyssey” pleading for HAL to
“Open the pod bay doors,” I have received the answer of the machine.
(HAL/NAB:) “I know that you… were planning to
disconnect me. And I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen.”
Gerry,
ReplyDeleteI was going to comment that you're being a bit harsh on them. After all they've only had 17 years to build the option for closing the overdraft facility on line, please be a little more patient.
What amuses me the most, however, is that once given the option to address the issue, they expected you to work for them, instead of a very simple fix of at a minimum sending you the forms.
I tell every bank I work with now that if you can't execute a customer instruction or revenue without a signature, that is the most significant sign that you have no understanding of digital engagement.
Brett King
BreakingBanks.com