Fear

Some people believe in spirits. Some people fear God, or many gods. I don't fear anything in particular, or at least in the realm of theology,

But you can bet your ass that today, the good folks at the CIBC are a Ryan-fearing people. You know, I kind of am, too.

It all started when I gave Ryan 140,000 yen to deposit into my savings account when he came to visit. A few days after his return, Ryan made his way over to the bank and deposit the money. Confused with the strange currency of another land - after all, at one point, the clerk converted it to $130, at which Ryan, in his gentle way, notified the gentleman of his error of a magnitude of ten -, Ryan was told that the amount could not be credited to my account right away but not to worry, within 72 hours the amount would be in my account.

Now by 72 hours did they mean three days or the time it takes for three seasons of 24?

A week passed and there was no money. I called the bank and left a message, and Ryan went to the bank and followed up. Ryan was told that everything should be resolved by the week.

That week came and passed, but my checkings account did not change. Unfortunately, neither did the credit card balance, whose billing date was looming ahead, and it was feeling kinda hungry.

I check my balance again yesterday, and see that a deposit was made into my account: $133.50.

Hmmm. Decimal's coming a little early on that amount.

So I call the bank again. After speaking to a like-named individual and making it clear that a banking error has been performed, I was transfered to the branch anew and spoke with the branch manager. His somewhat lack of quality telephone service notwithstanding and highly nuanced statements implying that Ryan may have ripped me off foregone, I was told that he would commence an investigation and that Ryan should drop off his receipt. After that call, I leave a message on Ryan's machine to that effect.

And there went the boom.

Ryan calls the bank and speaks with the individual who likes to calculate in tenths. It seems that the internal cheque which was supposed to adjust my account had been lost, resulting in them having to re-issue another one, which cleared and consequently credited my account for the right amount. At this point I can only imagine in how many dimensions Ryan communicated the fact that he was wrong, to which the clerk proceeded to recalculate anew and then realized that yes, there was indeed a zero missing. Apologies flowed profusely, and Ryan's tongue continued to lash, reminding the clerk of his folly, how he has to take time away from his patients to fix this mess, and how he hopes by the graces of God that the clerk's mother is not one of them. Amongst other choicely worded sentences.

Two hours later, Ryan is notified that the amount is credited in full to the account after jumping through a few hoops. Seeing that we jumped through a few of hour own, Ryan brings up the matter of compensation, and is currently waiting for a call-back from the manager. It's one thing if the bank makes an error. But it's another when the customer has to guide the bank in fixing it. Ryan is currently on standby, waiting for them to fuck up again, for he is on a roll, and alas his supply of bitchy poesis is vast and waiting to be unleashed.

On my end, I finally have money. And I daresay I wouldn't have it now had it not been for Ryan.