Wells Fargo & Me: A Love Story

(I am using pseudonyms for the WF staff.)

I ♡  Wells Fargo. If you read my post of November 16, “Have a Magical Day : Wells Fargo ♡  You,”  you will see I have changed my tune. Yes, they have finally won me over. Sigh.

When I entered my local Wells Fargo (“WF”) this afternoon, I was greeted by Theo, who said, “Is there anything I can get you before you approach the teller?”

“No, thanks,” I said. Do I need a sedative before I “approach” the teller? Maybe she/he is in a bad mood or worse, a homicidal maniac.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m right here,” he said.

I heard him say goodbye to “Joe.” So he’s on a first-name basis with the customers, how cool! I wonder if he offered Joe a bottle of water and a Dum Dums lollipop before he went on his way.

A second greeter whose name I didn’t catch, also late 20s, early 30s, bald and wearing a skinny suit, stood at the front of the line to further enhance our banking experience.

“The lovely Joni will assist you today,” he said, directing the first customer on line toward Joni’s window.

Is this the 1950s and are the tellers actually stewardesses? I’m confused. Is Joni serving ‘coffee, tea or me’ today?

The front-of-the-line greeter, let’s call him Tony, said to me, “And the lovely Brianna will assist you today.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Lovely Brianna had trouble locating my mortgage on the system, just like last time. I asked if there was something wrong.

“This happened last time too. Are you foreclosing on my house?” I said, trying to be funny.

Brianna motioned for Tony, who charged to the rescue.

Tony explained, “We’ve done some upgrades to the system, and sometimes it doesn’t recognize the accounts, but we do. It’s a glitch, we’re trying to get it resolved.”

“Okay,” I said.

“We do appreciate your patience. May we get you a some coffee or tea, how about a cheeseburger from the Shake Shack around the corner?” Tony said.

“No, that’s okay,” I said, laughing.

“Their cheeseburgers are supposed to be out of this world, but I haven’t been there yet.”

“It’s okay.”

Meanwhile, Chrysanthia, the teller to the right of Brianna, said to her disheveled, grumpy customer, “Have a magical day!”

He grunted something and shuffled on his way.

More minutes passed but I maintained my composure and good mood, grabbing one of the mini water bottles and a Dum Dums pop from the shelf outside Brianna’s window. I chugged down the water, fast. Dry in there.

“Well, Erica, we have two receipts for you today, and because you’ve been such a superstar with your understanding, you get two stars today!”

“Thank you,” I said, giggling.

“Have a great day!” Tony said.

“You too.”

Here is my reward for being a “superstar”:

star stickers

I’m a superstar! I ♡ Wells Fargo, and they ♡ me!

Have a Magical Day . . . Wells Fargo ♡ You!


(photo: Loren Javier / flickr)

On Friday afternoon, I overheard a teller at Wells Fargo (“WF”) say to a cranky customer at the termination of their business, “Have a magical day!”  Where are we, Disneyland?

The guy apologized (I kid you not) for not being in a better mood. 

It’s like a competition. The tellers are vying to be the perkiest, nicest, most PC people you’ll ever meet, offering you bottles of water and Dum Dums lollipops, but no real service. They are so cheery that they kind of shame you when you aren’t as perky and caffeinated as they are. It’s like walking into a Miss America competition with white-toothed smiles, big-haired young women and amenable young men. 

When the smooth-talking bespectacled skinny-suited young greeter/host/manager/emcee approached the huge snaking line of bedraggled customers and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you while you’re waiting, a bottle of water perhaps?” 

I responded, “Get us more tellers.” 

He said, “Oh, you know I’d like to do that more than anything in the world.  But if you change your mind, here’s some water.”  He set down the bottles of water on the table holding the deposit slips and such and ever-smiling, slinked away. 

After waiting a good 20 minutes, I got to an actual teller.   

She said, “Thank you soooo much for your patience today,” with giant shark teeth and a gorgeous thick head of hair.  She could have been a contestant on American Idol.  Is that how they’re recruiting tellers now?  Qualifications:  must have very white teeth, be cloyingly perky, and ALWAYS thank the customer for their patience.  I was there to pay my mortgage, but she couldn’t locate my account on the system and said, “Do you know the prefix for your loan number?” GIANT SMILE. 

“No, I’ve never been asked for it before.”  (I’ve had this mortgage with Wells Fargo for 7 years.)

“Okay. May I have your date of birth?” 

“Okay,” and I gave it to her.  “Is there a problem?” 

“No, no problem.”

She told me she was new at the bank and wrote down my 20 digit/letter prefix for future reference.

“Have a wonderful weekend!” she said.

“You do the same.” 

Perhaps I’m not so enamored of WF, having had several bad experiences in the past:

(1) We were flooded during Hurricane Irene and they would not cash our insurance check for 4 months;

(2) They refused to refinance our underwater mortgage because our credit was too good; and

(3) They paid the taxes on a property other than ours, using our money and would not fix the problem without a call from a 1%-er that we knew.

In short, I don’t like Wells Fargo. When a teller hands me Dum Dums, a bottle of water or tells me to “have a magical day,” I really want to tell them, “You have not won my good will with treats and magical wishes. Kindly shove them up your ass!”