Skip to main content

Closing an account? It should be child's play...

Mrs W has had a real battle with NS&I - the UK's state-owned investment and savings organisation - over her attempts to close accounts for the two mini-Ws. You'd think that closing an account and getting your money out should be a pretty straightforward affair, but not with this particular arm of government bureaucracy. It involved form filling and phone calls on a scale not seen since Leonid Brezhnev asked the KGB to register all the establishments selling vodka within a 500-mile radius of Moscow.

Anyway, after about three months of going backwards and forwards, the money did emerge and Mrs W was offered some modest compensation. We can forget it all and move on.

As a footnote, however, it's worth flagging up one complete and utter absurdity of the way NS&I handles accounts for children. It seems from Mrs W's correspondence and conversations that any kid over the age of seven, who may nominally be an account holder, is required to give permission for their parent to act on their behalf. Mum or dad phones up the call centre and tries to close down the account they opened for little Johnny, only to find the operative at the other end of the line wanting to speak to the lad himself.

'Is it ok if I talk to your parent about something you've never heard of and don't understand?'

The minis are quite a few years older now, so Mrs W was able to brief them. But if your kid really is seven or eight, the whole procedure is a farce. The youngsters are surely not capable of understanding what it is that they're consenting to. And if they fail to say 'yes' - perhaps because a Lego tower needs completing or Barbie's having her hair done - then their parents are up a well-known creek without paddle.

Now the accounts have been closed, NS&I have written to each of the mini-Ws separately, explaining the outcome of their investigation into mum's complaint. And here's where it starts getting stupid again. The letters are written in an a language that would bewilder any youthful recipient still awaiting formal admission to Mensa.

'As the account holder, I am writing to you directly due to our obligation to customer confidentiality...'

Let's leave aside the grammatical glitch here which suggests it's the writer of the letter who holds the account. Why would they expect any child to understand the notion of 'customer confidentiality'?

They then use phrases such as 'mishandling of correspondence' and 'discrepancy in our records', before going on to explain that the 'warrant' sent in compensation is just like a crossed cheque. My favourite sentence reads as follows: 'Our requirements should have been consolidated into one single letter instead of the multiple requests that were sent.'

Poor kids. They are being compensated for the failure of an organisation to cough up money they probably didn't know they had. And they're being told about it in a way which would leave them none the wiser.

Never mind though. If they're not happy, they are entitled to refer the matter to the Financial Ombudsman.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Captain Birdseye and other people of rank

Regular readers may recall that I once doubted the existence of Yeo Valley. I'd never heard of the Yeo mountain range and I therefore rated the likelihood of there being a valley at somewhere between 0 and 5%. Of course, I had yoghurt all over my face when I discovered that the place really does exist. Somewhere in Somerset, I seem to recall. Today, having read an article in the latest edition of The Marketer magazine, I'm astonished to discover that there really was a Captain Birdseye. Well, I need to qualify that just a little. There was a Mister Clarence Birdseye who invented the fish finger back in 1955. The avuncular, uniformed figure who dominated our TV screens for about thirty years may have been an invention of over-eager advertising creatives, but he didn't blow in on a trawler during a squall. There was actually some connection to a real human being. These revelations about fish and yoghurt are causing me considerable disquiet, because I'm wondering h...

Special Constable update

I've now studied the Special Constable poster in more detail (see blogs passim ) and can reveal the idea is even more complex and bizarre than I first thought. You'll recall that a Special is on some seedy looking street corner, just yards away from where a drug deal is in progress. He's keenly observing events and looks ready to take some kind of action. The copy says that Specials wear uniform and always have back-up. But this guy is on his own in plain clothes. Worrying. Perhaps he's off duty but just can't leave the policing thing alone? Once a part-time copper, always a part-time copper. But wait. There is back up. It comes in the form of the constable's own reflection in a puddle. If he took his eyes off the criminal activity for just a second and took the trouble to look down at his feet, he'd see that in Puddle Land, he is wearing a uniform and carrying a radio. There's enough material here to fill a semiotics seminar for a day. If I disco...

When one name isn't enough

You may have heard the news reports about the turmoil in Kingston, Jamaica, resulting from the government's attempts to pin down a notorious drug lord on behalf of the US. I was struck by the number of self-styled monikers this guy has given himself. He is, depending on the channel you listen to, known on the street as 'Dudas', 'The Big Man' and 'The President' - worshipped by many impoverished Kingston residents as a benefactor to slum dwellers. It's his real name that seems most appropriate, however. If you were a drug baron called Christopher Coke, wouldn't you leave it at that? It's certainly not a name to be sniffed at.