Quella che stai per leggere è una lettera
realmente scritta da una signora di 86 anni al direttore della sua banca. Una
lettera talmente spettacolare da essere stata pubblicata sul New York Times.
Egregio Signor Direttore,
Le scrivo per ringraziarla di aver bloccato il mio assegno con cui
ho tentato di pagare il mio idraulico il mese scorso. Secondo i miei calcoli,
dal momento in cui ha controllato se c’erano i fondi necessari fino all’arrivo
di essi, erano passati appena 3 nanosecondi. Mi riferisco naturalmente
all’accredito automatico mensile della mia pensione… un accredito che, lo
ammetto, avviene puntualmente da “soli” 8 anni.
Le faccio inoltre i complimenti per quei 30 dollari scalati dal mio
conto a titolo di sanzione per il disagio causato alla sua banca.
Le confesso che questo spiacevole incidente mi è servito per
rivedere e cambiare il mio approccio al mondo finanziario. Io rispondo
personalmente alle vostre lettere e alle vostre telefonate, al contrario,
quando sono io a contattarvi, mi ritrovo sempre a che fare con un’entità
impersonale fatta di lunghe attese e voci pre-registrate… questo è quello che
ormai è diventata la sua banca!
D’ora in poi anche io, come lei, scelgo di rivolgermi soltanto ad
una persona in carne e ossa.
D’ora in poi mutui e prestiti non verranno più pagati
automaticamente, ma tramite assegno spedito alla vostra banca e indirizzato
personalmente a un vostro dipendente da nominare.
Come lei saprà benissimo, è REATO ai sensi della legge aprire una
busta intestata ad un’altra persona. Allego a questa lettera un modulo di
contatto che un suo dipendente dovrà compilare per la ricezione dei miei
assegni.
Mi dispiace che il modulo sia lungo ben 8 pagine, ma ho bisogno di
sapere tanto sul suo dipendente quanto la sua banca vuole sapere di me, non c’è
alternativa.
E’ pregato di notare che tutte le copie delle cartelle cliniche del
suo dipendente devono essere controfirmate da un notaio, e dei dettagli
riguardanti la sua situazione finanziaria (reddito, debiti, attività e
passività) devono essere accompagnati da prove documentate.
A tempo debito, a mio piacimento, rilascerò al suo dipendente un
codice PIN che lui/lei dovrà utilizzare prima di mettersi in contatto con me.
Mi dispiace che il codice sia lungo 28 cifre, esattamente il numero di
pressioni sui tasti del telefono che faccio per accedere al mio saldo del conto
tramite il vostro servizio telefonico.
Come si suol dire, l’imitazione è la più sincera forma di
adulazione!
Vorrei aggiungere qualche altro piccolo appunto. Quando mi chiama è
pregato di premere i tasti come segue:
AD INIZIO CHIAMATA PREMA (*)
PER SELEZIONARE LA LINGUA INGLESE.
#1 Per fissare un appuntamento.
#2 Per richiedere un mancato pagamento.
#3 Per trasferire la chiamata nel mio soggiorno, nel caso io sia lì.
#4 Per trasferire la chiamata nella mia camera da letto, nel caso
stia dormendo.
#5 Per trasferire la chiamata nel mio bagno… nel caso sia impegnata
nei miei bisogni fisiologici.
#6 Per trasferire la chiamata al mio cellulare, se non sono a casa.
#7 Per lasciare un messaggio sul mio computer, verrà richiesta una
password per poter accedere al mio computer.
#8 Per tornare al menú principale.
#9 Per fare un reclamo.
A volte si troverà di fronte a delle lunghe attese, ma non si
preoccupi! Una musica melodica le farà compagnia per tutta la durata.
Le faccio i miei più sinceri auguri per un felice, anche se spero
meno prosperoso economicamente, anno nuovo.
Una sua umile Cliente
E si ricordi: mai complicare la vita ad una persona anziana.
Innanzitutto non ci piace sentirci vecchi, quindi non ci vuole molto per farci
incazzare…
Fonte: da PANE E CIRCO
NOTA
E' una finta lettera scritta da Peter
Wear, editorialista del Courier Mail
di Brisbane, Australia: http://peninsulalighthouse.wor... E' del 1999
MYTH BLASTER – DISGRUNTLED
96-YEAR-OLD WOMAN WRITES LETTER TO BANK
Joan B., Illinois sent this e-mail she received concerning a
96-year-old disgruntled woman’s letter to her bank:
Shown below, is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by a
96 year old woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it
published in the New York Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I
endeavored to pay my plumber with last month. By my calculations, three
nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check 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 been in place for only 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 repayments will therefore and
hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check,
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 Notary Public, 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 a PIN number
which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cann ot be
shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled 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. 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 7.
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
Remember: This was written by a 96 year old woman). Let’s hope
we’re all so sharp when (and IF) we get there.
JUST GOTTA LOVE SENIORS.
Myth Blaster Verdict: FALSE.
The letter was not written by a “96-year-old woman” and it wasn’t
printed or covered in The New York Times. According to Scopes, it was
written by Peter Wear, a columnist for the Courier Mail in
Brisbane, Australia. The letter was not sent to a bank – it was written as a
sarcastic humor story, inspired by the author’s check bouncing. It was written
in January 1999. Since that time someone or several people rewrote it and
tailored it to be a person in America. Here is the original:
My dear Bank Manager,
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
nano-seconds must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque, and the
arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour 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 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 re-think 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 1999, taking as my model the
procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very own 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.
First, 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 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/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 modelled it on the number
of button presses required to access my account balance on your phonebank
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
Authorized 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.
By pressing buttons on the phone, he/she will be guided thorough an extensive
set of menus:
1, to make an appointment to see me;
2, to query a missing repayment;
3, to make a general complaint or inquiry, and so on.
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. 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 if off 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 A4 page. Inquiries from your
nominated 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 75 cents a minute (even Woody Guthrie doesn’t come for
free), so you would be well advised to keep your inquiries brief and to the
point.
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.
Fonte: Lighthouse Journal
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