Warning: This post is nothing but venting. Bad customer service from giant corporations is not news.

I just got done having the single worst customer service experience that I can recall having. Thank you so much, Bank of America.

My problem, so I thought, was a simple one. Iron Realms took out a commercial loan from BoA a few years ago to finance a buyout of our largest investor. Our checking account is debited automatically every month for the loan payment, which, until November, was always broken down on the checking account statement into interest and principal. As a result, I never bothered keeping the paper loan statements, since the info the bookkeeper needs to do the accounts was right there on the checking statements. Our bookkeeper had some back surgery that took her out of things for a couple months, and she’s just finishing up reconciling the books for the last 2 months of 2006, when she discovered that the loan payments were now being lumped together rather than broken down into interest/principal. No big deal. I’ll just record the breakdown when the paper statements arrive, so I just had to find out what that breakdown was for November and December.

I logged into BoA’s site with Iron Realms’ info and found the business customer service number. This is approximately when it all went to hell. BoA works fine until you have to talk to them. I entered my account info and a human came on the line. I started explaining what I need but she interrupted and asked “Are you in California?” I am, and she informed me that as a result she’d have to transfer me. Apparently in Bank of America, California is treated like a different country. Great.

The representative gives me a number to call and then transfers me to that number, or at least tries to. Instead, she transfers me to a number that’s not in service. Sigh. I hang up and call the number she had given me. Naturally, I have to enter my various bits of info in their automated system again. A representative picks up and tells me this isn’t the right number for what I want. She’ll have to transfer me.
She then transfers me to an automated system that asks for me my account information again, but this time refuses to recognize the account # as valid. I try a couple times and then resort to hurling obscenities at the phone, at which point the system put me through to a human being.

This human being solemnly informs me that unfortunately, this isn’t the right department and that she’ll have to transfer me. First though, she’ll have to put me on hold to find which department to transfer me to. Over 15 minutes later (seriously), she tells me she has found the department to transfer me to. She tells me that she’s going to transfer me to a ‘Susan Johnson’ (first name changed) at a particular phone number, who is on the line. She rings off, and Susan Johnson tells me that her name is actually Susan Jackson and that the phone number the previous woman gave me is wrong, and gives me what she claims is the right number.

Susan manages to locate the loan, but then has to ask some security questions, such as the exact amount of principal of the loan. I’m unable to answer those questions because I don’t have the loan paper statements in front of me, as I had pointed out. I point out that I can give her reference numbers for the debit transactions on our checking account, offer up our IRS tax id, offer up info on all of our BoA accounts (all of which have my name on them), etc etc. None of that is good enough for her. She says she’ll have to transfer me (big surprise!).

She puts me on hold for 5 minutes or so, then announces she’s transferring me to Joel, who is in California. Apparently in Bank of America’s world, it’s important that I speak to someone physically in California, because information is no doubt distorted when it hits the California border and has to drive through an unmanned agricultural inspection station.
I explain what’s up to Joel, and his response is shocking: He’s going to have to transfer me. “Don’t worry though,” he cautions. “I’ll stay on the line.” Of course, he doesn’t, and when Karen picks up the phone, she has no idea who I am, what I’m calling about, or who Joel is.

Joel may be largely useless, but at least he put me through to my new hero, Karen. Karen, who speaks with a kind of quiet competence that reminded me of a the ugly-librarian-who-is-actually-hot-but-just-needs-to-let-down-her-hair-and-take-off-her-glasses stock character in tv/movies, only needed our company tax id number and she was able to give me the principal/interest breakdown immediately.
Six people. I had to speak to six people, and waste over an hour of my workday getting a very simple piece of information out of Bank of America. There is no acceptable excuse for that. I’ve been a loyal BoA customer for 13 years (10 as a business customer) and we route all of our business through them. I’m not sure if we’ll ditch them at this point or not because the switching costs in terms of time and hassle are pretty annoying to incur, but my god do I hate them right now.