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This is a collection of written pieces that comes from things I’ve thought and experienced; occasionally they are illustrated with photos that I’ve taken. They are here because I want people to enjoy them. This is a sort of print performance and as with other kinds of performance it is a meaningless exercise without an audience. So be my audience ...

Friday 17 September 2010

BIG BROTHER WORKS AT LLOYDS TSB


It was only a couple of month ago when I was online late one evening. I was examining a bunch of photographs of my son’s wedding that he had sent me via a website called Snapfish that is based in the USA. The idea was that using the facility offered by the site I would compile an album of pictures and they would produce it and send it to me in return for money. I’m slow at this kind of thing but I persevered and eventually put together what was for me a pleasing collection of nice pictures. When it came to payment I was presented with a form to which I added all the usual data including my debit card details. I clicked on the appropriate place and waited to be told that all was well and that my album would soon be on its way to me. What I actually got was a blunt message saying that my payment had been declined by my bank, Lloyds TSB.

It was about 11.30pm and I had been sitting at my desk for about 45 minutes working away at what was for me something of a challenge. Having reached the end of it all I had achieved that somewhat self satisfied state of closure that you get when you’ve jumped all the hurdles. My brain was slightly addled but I’d done it. But I hadn’t because someone had blocked my account.

I called the bank. You probably know what this involves. Instructions from a disembodied voice. The bank sort code tapped in. The account number tapped in. Tapped into a handset that you want to listen to see if your tapping in is being fruitful but you can’t listen because you are tapping stuff in or when you are listening you can’t tap anything in because your face is in the way. Then Options. There is no Option for saying What The Hell Are You Doing Messing About With My Transaction When I Have The Money To Pay And I’m Tired? Eventually there is a person and, phrased more politely, you put this question to him.

OK. I answered the security questions correctly; they ask three, things like your Mother’s maiden name. Then I told the man that I wanted to know why they had had chosen me for their attentions. I mean, what was so suspicious about my wanting to pay a US company the equivalent of about $40? Not really a big deal is it?Ah! Ah! He says. That is the suspicious thing. Not very much money. That’s what the bad people do. They start small to see if the card they have stolen works. Then they work up from there. But the card wasn’t stolen. I have it here on my desk. If it had been stolen I would have told you. Wouldn’t I? (I expect the reader to imagine the voice through gritted teeth, the exasperation, the rising threat of violence). Wouldn’t I?

You give up. My payment was authorised. I went to bed. Later I made a formal complaint. They make it very easy to register a complaint. Can you guess why? Theirs is a labyrinthine process of passing a complaint around and around until no-one can remember what it was about and it disappears up its own backside. It makes work for people. That’s a good thing. It makes the customer unhappy. That’s also a good thing.

Moving forward. The Snapfish debacle is well into the past. I am now in a nearby city in Marks and Spencer with my wife and we are buying some sofas. It has been a long time since we bought sofas. The last ones we bought were very cheap and now, twelve years or so later, it shows. We have done the research. We have found a model of sofa that is perfect for us. And we are going to buy three of them. Don’t be envious. We’re getting on a bit. We've earned it.

Earlier that morning we had bought a new TV from John Lewis. It was quite expensive and I paid for it using my new Lloyds TSB credit card. (I said, don’t be envious – we’ve earned it). The payment went through without a hitch.

Back to sofas. Big money this time. A few thou. As I passed over my card to the M&S lady I thought there might be trouble as it was a large sum but that would be reasonable, they are just protecting us. There was trouble. There’s no explanation. The card goes into the machine and … transaction not accepted. Using the M&S ‘phone on the desk before me, surrounded by other customers and staff I ‘phoned Lloyds TSB Telephone Banking. Usual rigmarole with numbers tapped in. I found myself talking to woman in Fraud. She had three security questions to put to me. The second one came as a bolt from the blue. What was the month of my son Julian’s birthday?

Well, I’m almost never speechless but this time I’ll admit to being surprised to the point of shock. My son, Julian, died eleven years ago aged 23 years. It was the most painful time in our lives and our grief continues. I don’t remember exactly what I said to the woman but I told her that I thought this question had no place in their Security procedure. I refused to answer it. She gave me a third question which I answered correctly. The woman then told me that I had failed the Security questions and that the only way I could clear the block on my account was to go to a Lloyds TSB branch and present photo ID. I made it very clear that I was extremely unhappy about their inclusion of anything to do with my deceased son in their security procedure and said I wanted it to be removed – and we would go find a branch.

We excused ourselves to the M&S lady. Told her we’d be back soon. Left the shop and went off to find a branch of Lloyds TSB. Found one. Yes, there was a queue, a long queue. We waited until a member of staff was available. Jessica was her name and she was as helpful as could be. I explained the difficulty over the security problem, made the point about the unacceptability of that one question and showed her my driving licence with signature and photograph. They have a copy of my signature on the computer and it clearly matched the one on the licence. So get this clear; I have proved my identity. Agreed?

To facilitate matters Jessica ‘phoned the Fraud department of Telephone Banking to confirm that I had proved my identity. After a while she passed the ‘phone to me and I found myself speaking to a man. A man who told me that he must ask me three security questions ….

The four dots above are to indicate a slight hiatus in the conversation. You know what I said to him. It started with ‘Why?’ The fact that I had proved my identity didn’t seem to mean a thing to him. OK, ask away. Let’s get this over with. The second piece of information I had to provide was the month of my son’s birth. At this point Jessica, who had been listening to the conversation as far as she was able, put her hand up to her face in astonishment. I explained my position on the matter of this particular security question. He asked me the third question, which I answered correctly. I put the ‘phone down believing that all was now well. We returned to M&S and told the Sales person that we could now resume the purchase.

No we couldn’t. The card was refused again.

This time the M&S lady called someone in their company from the Authorisation department in an attempt to move things on. I do not know what this person did exactly but the impression I got was that they had gone through to Lloyds TSB. Whoever I found myself speaking to said that I had to answer three security questions …. and more dots.

And yes, the second question concerned the month in which our son was born.

I was by now getting agitated and just a little bit distraught. All right. I’d get this over with now and deal with the crass insensitivity of these idiots later. ‘It was June’ I almost yelled. Of course I was wrong. Julian was born in November. He died in June. I did know that. A psychiatrist might explain how and why I gave the wrong answer to a question that should never have been put.

So I failed the security test.

Back to the branch of Lloyds TSB where Jessica was still at her desk. She picked up the ‘phone and started to talk to someone. When she had finished she told us that the block had been lifted and all would now be well.

Back to M&S where we completed the purchase.

Now, dear reader, what conclusions do we draw from the above? The obvious one must be that this security process is not about proving one’s identity, it is about answering correctly three questions chosen arbitrarily by someone who has something missing in their mental makeup – and answering those questions is all there is to it. It's not really about proving your identity it's about answering three questions correctly. Note that I proved my identity beyond any reasonable doubt when I presented my driving licence. Note that on the first occasion of my grilling I protested about the question concerning my son – and I did mention then that he was dead – and I did make it very clear that the question upset me. But the system operated by Lloyds TSB does not factor in how their staff should respond to a situation like this. It is, I am sure, far easier to employ staff and say, ‘Your job is to put three questions to them and if they don’t answer – no matter what they say – you block them. Don’t listen to their blathering just block them’. So they went on asking that damned question like automata.

Next day a courier arrived with a box. There was an unsigned card from Lloyds TSB and two bottles of wine. Around the box was ribbon printed as shown above ‘Lloyds TSB – for the journey’. Was the idea that I should drink the two bottles and then take a drive? No, I’m sure it was an innocent gift initiated by Jessica and if Lloyds TSB wants a piece of good advice they should kick out the deadheads who run Telephone Banking and put her in charge.

Note: today The Times carried a piece in Business News headed, ‘Lloyds tops ‘most complained of’ list – for the third time running’. In the six months to June they scored 22,420 complaints. Royal Bank of Scotland, with 2.5 million more customers scored only 6,469. I filed my complaint on 24 August, had the standard reply back on 26 August and nothing since. I’ve also filed a Request for Information under the Data Protection Act seeking the personal information that the bank holds in their automated systems and paper files. I want to know how the buggers even knew I had a son called Julian and, if they are so damned smart, why they didn’t know that he was dead.

Post Script Let’s end this with a smile. Because I like to trace where people get my address for junk mail I sometimes give myself a title. So I might be Professor Diggle, or Doctor Diggle or Rev Diggle when I buy something online and then I see how subsequent mail is addressed. (Look, retired chaps do things like this, don’t think it strange). I had taken up an offer with a money-back guarantee and had decided not to go with it, so asked for my money back. It came as a cheque made payable to Prof. Keith Diggle. Not having a conveniently located branch I posted the cheque and paying-in slip off to Lloyds TSB. A week later it came back to me with a letter explaining that as the cheque was not made out to the person named as the account holder account it could not be accepted. My tart response to this caused a genial chap from the bank to call me to apologise for the action of ‘this numbskull’ who worked there. Another candidate for promotion perhaps?

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