I got a letter from my "local bank" recently. Turns out its parent company was bought by another parent company, which is owned by an even bigger parent in a foreign country well known for its car exports.
"Congratulations!" the letter said. "You've earned sixty-seven cents interest on your savings account this quarter. For the year you made two dollars and forty-eights cents!" This paragraph was surrounded by balloons with golden dollar signs on them bouncing gaily as bits of confetti showered down around them. It gave me, as I'm sure it gave all of the thousands of other local customers, a warm fuzzy in my lower intestinal tract.
A little further down was another paragraph that started out "In order to better serve you -- our highly valued customer, a person who makes getting up and going to work each day a sheer pleasure --- better..."
I started to actually tear up.
"...beginning immediately we are going to start charging you a quarterly maintenance fee for this account, equal to about six times your annual interest take. And we are going to charge you a monthly maintenance fee on your non-interest bearing checking account, so that our corporate leaders can continue to lead a lifestyle that you can only dream about."
This paragraph was cleverly being towed across the page by a yacht with a helicopter on deck, and streamers tailing in the blue skies yachting past what appeared to be the Cayman Islands.
When my wife came home and asked what I was clutching so fondly to my chest, I blurted out: "My bank loves me." Then I showed her the letter.
Took her a few minutes to follow the bank's lineage. I thought she would be as excited as me about the new owners’ needs, but she just looked a bit puzzled. "Don't you have direct deposit?" she asked.
"Yup."
"And you write like six checks a month?"
"Five!"
"And you make all your other deposits yourself directly into the ATM?"
"Yup, never go into the bank."
"Then what do you suppose the maintenance fee is for?"
I pointed at the yacht. "Can you imagine how many corporate mouths there must be to feed?"
My wife used to be in charge of a multi-million dollar budget. She did a few quick calculations. "It's now going to cost you two bucks a check. Plus, they are going to charge you to use your money in your savings account."
"I guess it must be expensive to put fuel in a personal helicopter. And do you know what a good fortune cookie goes for these days?"
"Maybe you leave them to their cookies and take your fortune to another bank that doesn't charge."
I pointed at the balloons.
"A bank that's happy and cheaper."
I really don't like changing things. I have three pairs of jeans --- all 501s. That means I can go three weeks without laundering, plus I don't ever have to worry about my fly being undone. I wear the same shoes every day and when they wear out I buy another pair just like them. I go to the same gas station to fill my tank, the same liquor store to buy my lottery tickets (even though I never win) and I have soup every day for lunch.
Still my wife had a point. So I joined the credit union, opened new accounts, then went to my old bank, forcing my way through the balloons and congratulatory banners, pausing a minute to watch them hang up yet another row of photos of executive officers that circled the large room, and told the teller I wanted to close my accounts.
"Wwhhhy?" she stammered.
I showed her the letter and pointed at the maintenance fee paragraph. I pointed at the yacht.
"It is a beauty and I'd love to help keep it afloat, but I'm afraid when I retire and my income drops I'll actually start owing you guys more money than I have."
She looked confused, like duh, that was a given. But when I didn't back down she closed my accounts and handed me my money.
On the way out I passed another guy in 501s carrying a letter heading for the counter. And near the door I noticed one of the balloons had deflated.
Too bad really.