My dear Bank Manager,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing the cheque with which I endeavored 
to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations some three nano-seconds 
must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque, and the arrival in 
my account of the funds needed to honour it.  I refer, of course, to the
automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I 
admit, has only been in place for eight years.  You are to be commended 
for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my 
account by way of penalty for the inconvenience I caused your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused 
me to re-think my errant financial ways. You have set me on the path of 
fiscal righteousness. No more will our relationship be blighted by these 
unpleasant incidents, for I am restructuring my affairs in 1999, taking 
as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very own bank.  
I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and 
proud to hear it.  

To this end, please be advised about the following changes. First, I  have 
noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and  
letters, when I try to contact you I am confronted by the impersonal, 
ever-changing, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.
From now on I, like you, chose only to deal with a flesh and blood person.  

My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer 
be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by personal cheque, addressed 
personally and confidentially to an employee of your branch, whom you must 
nominate. You will be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for 
any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an 
application for Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to 
complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as 
much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. 
Please note that all copies of his/her medical history must be countersigned
by a Justice of the Peace, and that the mandatory details of his/her 
financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be 
accompanied by documented proof. 

In due course I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she 
must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than
28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses 
required to access my account balance on your phonebank service.  As  
they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further by introducing you to my new 
telephone system, which you will notice, is very much like yours. My 
Authorised Contact at your bank, the only person with whom I will have 
any dealings, may call me at any time and be answered by an automated 
voice. 
       
By pressing the buttons on the phone, he/she will be guided 
through an extensive set of menus:
1) to make an appointment to see me,
2) to query a missing repayment,
3) to make a general complaint or inquiry, and so on.

The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated 
answering service. While this may on occasion involve a lengthy wait, 
uplifting music will play for the duration.  This month I have chosen the 
refrain from The Best of Woody Guthrie:  "Oh the banks are made of 
marble/With a guard at every door And the vaults are filled with 
silver/That the miners sweated for!" After twenty minutes of that, 
our mutual contact will probably know it all by heart.

On a more serious note, we come to the matter of cost. As your bank has 
often pointed out, the ongoing drive for greater efficiency comes at a 
cost-- a cost which you have always been quick to pass on to me.  Let me 
repay your kindness by passing some costs back.  First, there is the matter 
of advertising material you send me.  This I will read for a fee of $2 per 
page. Inquiries from your nominated contact will be billed at $5 per minute 
of my time spent in response. Any debits to my account, as, for example, 
in the matter of the penalty for the dishonoured cheque, will be passed back
to you. My new phone number service runs at 75 cents per minute (even Woody
Guthrie doesn't come free), so keep your inquiries brief and to the
point. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an
establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your humble client,
Jolyon Ansuz