A 98-year-old woman 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 honour it. I refer, of course,
to the automatic monthly deposit of my Pension, 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 to the tune of £30 by way of a 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 offence 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 a Solicitor must countersign all copies of
his or her medical history, 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 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 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

Certainly a good stab at our banking system, but in the end, false.

http://www.snopes.com/bus...kethat.asp

Mars23 said:

oh well, it was bloody funny anyway

98 year old ladies don't have computers, but they do remember seeing a car for the first time!!

ZombieKitten said: