Letter to my Bank Manager

[avongas]

please feel free to copy this letter and send it to your own Manager

 

 

 

Dear Sir:

 

I am writing to thank you for bouncing the cheque with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations some three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque, and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account with £50 by way of penalty for the inconvenience I caused to your bank.

 

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. You have set me on the path of fiscal righteousness. No more will our relationship be blighted by these unpleasant incidents, for I am restructuring my affairs in 2008 taking as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very bank. I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and proud to hear it. To this end, please be advised about the following changes.

 

I have noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you I am confronted by the impersonal, ever-changing, pre-recorded, faceless entity, which your bank has become. From now on I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh and blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee of your branch, whom you must nominate. You will be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

 

Please find attached an Application for Authorised Contact Status, which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Justice of the Peace, and that the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

 

Let me level the playing field even further by introducing you to my new telephone system, which you will notice, is very much like yours. My Authorised Contact at your bank, the only person with whom I will have any dealings, may call me at any time and will be answered by an automated voice. Press buttons as follows:

 

1) To make an appointment to see me

2) To query a missing payment

3) To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there

4) To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping

5) To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature

6) To transfer the call to my mobile phone in case I am not at home

7) To leave a message on my computer [to leave a message a password to access my computer is required: password will be communicated at a later date to the Authorised Contact

8) To return to the main menu and listen carefully to options 1 through 7

9) To make a general complaint or inquiry.

 

The Authorised Contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may on occasion involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration. This month I've chosen a refrain from "The Best of Woody Guthrie": "Oh, the banks are made of marble, With a guard at every door, And the vaults are filled with silver, That the miners sweated for." After twenty minutes of that, our mutual Contact will probably know it by heart.

 

 

On a more serious note, we come to the matter of cost. As your bank has often pointed out, the ongoing drive for greater efficiency comes at a cost, a cost which you have always been quick to pass on to me. Let me repay your kindness by passing some costs back.

 

First, there is the matter of advertising material you send me. This I will read for a fee of £20 per page.

 

Inquiries from your Authorised Contact will be billed at £5 per minute of my time spent in response.

 

Any debits to my account, as, for example, in the matter of the penalty for the dishonoured cheque, will be passed back to you

My new phone service runs at £1.50 a minute (even Woody Guthrie doesn't come for free), so you would be well advised to keep your enquiries brief and to the point.

 

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee of 2% of my balance or £500 (whichever is more) to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

 

May I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous, New Year.

 

Your humble client,

 

 

[michele]

fantastic :D

 

How about this one for the ladies of the Forum.

 

This is - allegedly - an actual letter sent to Proctor & Gamble

 

 

TO: MR. JAMES THATCHER

 

 

BRAND MANAGER, PROCTER & GAMBLE

 

 

Dear Mr. Thatcher

 

 

I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horse riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favourite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

 

 

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing?

 

 

As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying and out-of-control behaviour. You surely realise it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps.

 

 

Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that the UK is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

 

 

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."

 

 

Are you *+*#*ing kidding me?

 

 

What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness - is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable?

 

Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Nurofen and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Tesco's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"?- Or are you just picking on us?

 

 

Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an £8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bulls**t. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.

 

 

Best,

 

 

Wendi Aarons