People collect all sorts of things. My very old mate has, quite literally, every single Arsenal programme ever printed or scratched onto slate. No idea why you’d want that. You can start a fire with old newspapers. Another mate collects pipes. Smoking ones. Doesn’t use ‘em, just likes ‘em. Books, records, cars, stamps, you can collect anything. And I collect bank accounts. Not necessarily for the aesthetics of fine art or the cuddliness of collecting teddy bears, it’s just that I don’t seem to bother closing them and just open another when needed. You can never have too many. Errrrr, right?

Then catastrophe. An account we’ve had since about 1990 announced they were shutting their current accounts down!!! Noooooooo!!!! Best if I transfer to another bank, OR, as banks now term it: ‘switch!’ Its a standardised process for taking over all regular payments and outgoings, direct debits, everything, it just magically ‘switches’ to the new bank!! That’s just what we need!!! What could possibly go wrong!!!!

Barclays went wrong.

They’re not my ‘main’ bank, but I have an account I use and thought it would be good to incorporate the account that was closing into that. So I called them, having seen online that they’re really into ‘SWITCH!!!’ Great.

Ah, you need the app. Ok, I got the app. There’s ‘switch’… “NOT for joint accounts”, which the other one is. Ah. So, using my new app, I called them. And got through!! To a person!!! Who told me that I need to go to a branch. So I popped in to a nearby branch. To be told that “you can’t ‘switch’ into an existing account, its only for NEW accounts, NOW FUCK OFF AND DON’T BOTHER ME AGAIN!!!!” She didn’t actually say that, but it was implicit with every breath she took. Scary, officious person. (Because I can’t say ‘bitch’)

I called my app-people again who told me she was wrong. I CAN switch to an existing account. Phew. But how? Ahhh, I’ll make you an appointment in a branch. But you have no branches. You’ve shut them all down. Oooh, there’s one, in Hendon, Barclays ‘Local’, you have an appointment made there. Yaaaaay, I’m winnin’.

When they called to confirm the appointment they told me ‘Local’ versions can NOT do a ‘switch’, only big, proper versions. Which, like big, proper dinosaurs, are pretty-much extinct. But there is one!!! In Holborn!!! Fab, make me an appointment. I can’t. Its not on the appointment system. You’ll have to go in. Ok. And ‘yes’ they can switch, and ‘yes’ from a joint account into an existing joint account, and ‘yes’… our ‘man’ (singular) is in on Wednesdays and he’ll call to arrange an appointment.

The old account is shutting on Sept 30th and the ‘switch’ takes 7 days. But heh, no problem. I’m getting an appointment!!!

He emailed on Wednesday. To make an appointment… for a phone chat. Errrr… ok, but time is waiting for no man, not this one, certainly. So he scheduled a call for yesterday, 10.15.

By 10.30 there was no call. 10.45… 11.00…

I went online with Santander, who are our main bank, because, I filled in an online application for a new account, pressed the switch button and…

“Yes sir, here’s your new joint account details and your switch is under way…” Ten minutes total. After 3 weeks of fucking about with Barclays.

At 12.00 I received a call from Barclays. The one from 10.15. “So sorry, accidentally entered it into my diary for TOMORROW!!!, phah!, sorry, how can I help you?” The air was blue. Not Barclays ‘blue’ but vile sweary, screamy, abusive, insulting ‘blue’.

This morning, I received a text reminding me of my phone appointment for the wrong day at the wrong time. I was arrested at Charing Cross for standing in the middle of the Strand shouting “YOU FUCKING TOSSSSSSEEERRRRSSSS!!!!” repeatedly at my phone.

Go to Barclays Bank: IF YOU WANNA FUCKING DIE OF FRUSTRAAATION.

And I add another account to my collection. Win-win.

Happy Friday

A xxxx