Why I Hate Our Bank

Ok, so I know that banks suck worldwide. The hours suck, the service sucks, the policies suck, the fees suck.

Our bank in Norway? SUCKS.

Nordea*, I mean you.

OK, first item of suckage: they are open 9-3, M-F. Talk about a pain in the ass, this means you either have to be late for work or leave work early. HELLO, we have JOBS! JOBS which make MONEY that we then put into your crappy BANK. Maybe you could make it easier for us to visit it?

So, this morning I showed up at our crappy local Nordea branch at 9:03, so that I could turn in my old, non-working ATM card. (Note to Americans: Nordea (and all Norwegian banks) charges a fairly hefty per year fee for an ATM/Visa card. If yours goes bad and you need another one, which frequently happens with their crappy cards, you have to turn in the old one or they will charge you for TWO cards. Something they don't tell you, until you wonder why you are being charged out the ass for ATM card fees. One friend of mine found this out after her third card went bad, and she was paying for three cards, two dead ones and a functional one. YEAH.)

At 9:03, there was no one in the bank but me. As I walked in, a woman greeted me and asked if she could help me. I logically assumed she wanted to HELP me, so told her I wanted to return my broken card.

"You must take a number", she said.
"Er, there's no one here but me", I pointed out, making a fairly grand waving gesture to display the expansiveness of the emptiness around me.
"Yes, but you must take a number, you must put your card in the machine and it will give you a number", she said, immune to my graceful arm motions.

I walked over to the machine she pointed at. Apparently the idea is that you put your ATM card in it and it checks your account to see if you are a customer an ALSO what level customer you are, so it can assign you a number.

The machine was off. Blank screen, black face, no amount of poking my card into the slot was gonna wake that bitch up.

"Um, your machine is off, and I don't need a number as there is NO ONE HERE", I logically pointed out.
"You must take a number", she said, as if I was a stupid 2 year old.
"OK, well, you tell me HOW to get the number, and I will get the number", I said, in my most ironic American tone of voice. (Note to Brit: yes, Americans ARE IRONIC.)

She huffed, got off her stool from behind her little counter (it's on WHEELS, people, it's not furniture) and came over and pounded on the machine until it woke up (with the pointed attitude that I should HAVE DONE IT MYSELF).

"Do you have a Nordea account?" she asked.
I was starting to get really annoyed by now, so I just gave her a look that said it all. (It mostly said "fuck you", if I was going to be completely honest. )
She grabbed my card, shoved it in the machine in a pointed way, DESCRIBING HOW TO DO IT the whole time, like I was too stupid to do it myself, and out popped my number.

It was number 1. (I mean, 'duh, much?)

Then she went back behind her counter and sat down.

I stood there, holding a tiny slip of paper on which was written the number 1, a Texan who KNOWS HOW TO USE A GUN, by the way, amazed at the sheer "Office Space" mentality of what was going on. (I mean, I even looked around for a camera as this was so a skit out of the Office or something, I still can't believe it was real. Where is my TPS report cover, where is my red Swingline stapler?)

I waited a minute or so, then SOMEONE ELSE pushed a button, and guess what? My number came up on the screen over her head. Wow, what a shocker. I'm next? Lil' ol' Me? Next? No, you don't say?

So then I had to go to another, totally different person, to turn in my old card, while the woman who 'helped' me, sat there, behind her little wheelie counter, staring into space, ready to 'help' the next non-existent customer.

I tend to be fairly friendly to people at the establishments with which I do business? I wasn't at my best on this transaction, I must admit.

I mostly muttered obscenities.

*(We only stay with Nordea because all the other banks suck, and Nordea does offer a more convenient and cheaper way to send money overseas. But honestly, I wish they would lech mich am arsche.)