Lulu* originally came in last week because her CD was about to mature and she wanted to let it automatically renew. I told her that we needed to change it because the bank changed hands (and the new bank has slightly different terms on their CDs). She grumbled a bit, but agreed to come back with the original CD.
Today, Lulu came back in saying that she can't find the CD. No big deal, I say, I can type up a Lost CD form. So I do that and have her sign, after reading all the small print (which isn't sucky) even though I told her it doesn't apply to her (which is kinda sucky). Then she decides to take $50,000 out of the CD and has me do a new CD for the rest. Ok so far.
Lulu is one of these folks who come into the bank wearing a 50-year-old coat and gloves with holes in the fingers, but has $90,000 on deposit. And that's the only account she has with us, so she likely has money elsewhere, too. While I'm working on her CD, she pulls a calculator out of her purse to figure out how much interest she's going to earn.
Now to the heart of the post. When Lulu took the old CD out, 11 years ago, we weren't as strict with what information we needed, so there were a few gaps I needed filled.
Me: Ok, I need to get some more information for the new CD. What is your street address?
Lulu: ...
Me: <expectant look> ...
Lulu: 132 Sarasota Blvd
Me: Thank you.
Lulu: But I still want everything to go to my PO box.
Me: No problem. Box 456, right?
Lulu: Yes.
Me: Ok. We'll do that. We just need to have your physical address. What is your date of birth?
Lulu: You don't need that!
Me: Actually, I do.
Lulu: ...
Me: I can't do the CD without it.
Lulu: <whispering> 3-11-19 ... 32. And I'm not giving you my driver's license.
Me: Well, we have been collecting driver's license numbers --
Lulu: from new customers?
Me: No, all customers. But if you don't want to give it, that's ok. <It was hard enough to get information from her. I wasn't going to press it. It was a good thing we already had her social security number!>
Me: Now for your son. What's his address?
Lulu: The same.
Me: Ok. And his date of birth?
Lulu: I'm not giving you that!
Me: <We already have his social security number, and you're going to balk on his date of birth?> I have to have it.
Lulu: <Tries to stare me down. I don't budge.> What if I put him on as beneficiary instead of joint owner.
Me: Then we don't need it.
Lulu: Ok. Let's do that.
So I change the son to beneficiary and print out the new CD while Lulu complains about interest rates, the election, and how the news reports unemployment statistics. I go over the CD with her, then go get the money order for the portion she's taking out.
Lulu: I suppose they'll tell me your signature is no good.
Me: Not unless they know something I don't.
She's cordial after that and thanks me for helping her. As she leaves, she enters the drawing for a free turkey. $50,000 check in her purse, but she needs a free turkey.
*Name and other identifying information changed to protect the privacy of the annoying.
Today, Lulu came back in saying that she can't find the CD. No big deal, I say, I can type up a Lost CD form. So I do that and have her sign, after reading all the small print (which isn't sucky) even though I told her it doesn't apply to her (which is kinda sucky). Then she decides to take $50,000 out of the CD and has me do a new CD for the rest. Ok so far.
Lulu is one of these folks who come into the bank wearing a 50-year-old coat and gloves with holes in the fingers, but has $90,000 on deposit. And that's the only account she has with us, so she likely has money elsewhere, too. While I'm working on her CD, she pulls a calculator out of her purse to figure out how much interest she's going to earn.
Now to the heart of the post. When Lulu took the old CD out, 11 years ago, we weren't as strict with what information we needed, so there were a few gaps I needed filled.
Me: Ok, I need to get some more information for the new CD. What is your street address?
Lulu: ...
Me: <expectant look> ...
Lulu: 132 Sarasota Blvd
Me: Thank you.
Lulu: But I still want everything to go to my PO box.
Me: No problem. Box 456, right?
Lulu: Yes.
Me: Ok. We'll do that. We just need to have your physical address. What is your date of birth?
Lulu: You don't need that!
Me: Actually, I do.
Lulu: ...
Me: I can't do the CD without it.
Lulu: <whispering> 3-11-19 ... 32. And I'm not giving you my driver's license.
Me: Well, we have been collecting driver's license numbers --
Lulu: from new customers?
Me: No, all customers. But if you don't want to give it, that's ok. <It was hard enough to get information from her. I wasn't going to press it. It was a good thing we already had her social security number!>
Me: Now for your son. What's his address?
Lulu: The same.
Me: Ok. And his date of birth?
Lulu: I'm not giving you that!
Me: <We already have his social security number, and you're going to balk on his date of birth?> I have to have it.
Lulu: <Tries to stare me down. I don't budge.> What if I put him on as beneficiary instead of joint owner.
Me: Then we don't need it.
Lulu: Ok. Let's do that.
So I change the son to beneficiary and print out the new CD while Lulu complains about interest rates, the election, and how the news reports unemployment statistics. I go over the CD with her, then go get the money order for the portion she's taking out.
Lulu: I suppose they'll tell me your signature is no good.
Me: Not unless they know something I don't.
She's cordial after that and thanks me for helping her. As she leaves, she enters the drawing for a free turkey. $50,000 check in her purse, but she needs a free turkey.
*Name and other identifying information changed to protect the privacy of the annoying.
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