what a letter!

A 98 year old woman in the UK wrote this to her bank. The bank manager
thought it amusing enough to have it published in the Times.
  
Dear Sir,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my cheque with which I
endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, 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 Pension, an arrangement,
which, I admit, has been in place for only thirty eight years. You are
to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also
for debiting my account £30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience
caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has
caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I
personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to
contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging,
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 payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be
automatic, but will arrive at your bank by cheque, addressed personally
and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must
nominate. Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any
other person to open such an envelope.






Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your
chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in
order that I 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 Solicitor, and 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 PIN number which he/she
must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than
28 digits but, again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses
required of me 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. When you call me, 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 if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer
is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to
the Authorized Contact.)
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through to 8.
9.  To make a general complaint or inquiry, the 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 of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an
establishment fee 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