So I've had to call CitiBank for about the 15th time . . . and I'm usually indefatigably sweet during all of these calls that have to do with their gross inefficiencies as related to my accounts. But yesterday, I lost that sweetness. I had a definite edge in my tone of voice; the kind of edge that says, "What are you? An idiot?" It wasn't pretty.
And I think what pushed me over the edge wasn't the fact that they sent me a letter telling me that they were closing my account for mistakes on their part, nor the fact that they repeatedly gave me misinformation, nor the long periods of time listening to international Muzak, nor even the fact that I was assured last time I called that I didn't have to fax those documents in again. What pushed me over the edge -- I'm pretty sure -- is that I was having to explain and re-explain my account situation and finances to a woman in Bangladesh who can't pronounce "Portland, Oregon."
Please transfer me to someone who speaks English. Thank you.
I'm still getting over that one.