Lost cards, call centres and helpful Liverpudlian ladies!

Well, I’ve had a bloody awful evening! My wallet got stolen. At least, I assume it has been. The last time I had it, it was safe, then the next time I went to find it, it miraculously wasn’t there. I can only assume I left it on a table for a few seconds and some absolute amoebic waste of oxygen has swiped it. The problem is, I have no idea how long it could have been stolen for, so there’s a chance that they managed to clean out my account before I had time to cancel my card with the bank. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. Stolen or lost, I had to phone my local bank, and for anyone who knows me well, you’ll know that calling helplines is one of my pet hates. Honestly, so annoying was my telephone experience that it made me forget anything that had been bothering me previously to it.

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I called a very, very specific number: the one that directs you immediately to a customers service helper who specialises in dealing with lost cards. Despite this, I had to wait ten minutes- ten minutes that seemed to last forever- to be put through to a very pleasant scouse lady. But it got me thinking- why was I made to wait ten minutes? I wasn’t calling a general number. How many people are losing their debit cards and are having to cancel them at precisely the same time as me? Possible a few, although I believe that actually, they simply redirect these calls through to a usual worker. I don’t have any evidence of this, but upon getting through, the very pleasant lady from Liverpool asked immediately for my account number- something that I cannot give her due to the fact that the number is on my car. Something I currently am calling about due to it being lost. She was very helpful,  but I can’t help but feel that before that, she had spent the ten minutes before my call painting her nails or picking her nose or whatever it is that call center workers do.

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But why make me wait ten minutes? Seriously, why? Firstly, my card could have been stolen. In that ten minutes, somebody could have emptied my account and taken what little money I have. Secondly, I had a very specific request. I had called a special number, followed the relevant keypad instructions, to be put through to somebody who could handle my specific problem. My call lasted about three minutes, and so ten minutes suggests that somewhere else in the world, there are at least 3 other people who have lost their card and have decided to call at the exact same time, and apparently are all using the same branch as me.

This leads me to my second point. If my card has indeed been stolen, what does that say about humanity? If I saw a wallet that somebody had dropped, or left on a table, my initial response would be to immediately hand it in to the nearest authority. Sure, there’s money in it, and I COULD steal it, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. It would be dishonest- which clearly isn’t something that bothers some people in society. If somebody drops a coin, or a note, that’s one thing, but a wallet contains so much more than just their financial belongings. Mine contained my driving license, a loyalty card, my National Insurance card and a picture of my dog. Somebody else might have lost a picture of their family or a long deceased relative that they want to remember and hold dear to their heart. Money is one thing, but a person’s life is another- don’t steal their life, you dickhead!

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So I guess the moral of the story, alongside learning not to lose things, would be to never, ever put any faith in the men and women of the world, as somebody will probably steal from you one day. Oh! And if you lose a debit card, absolutely under no circumstances call your local bank branch on their specialised number when you have to leave the house within the next few hours, as you’ll likely be late to whatever date you’ve made.

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