Archive for April, 2012

April 21, 2012
Filed Under (You are really pissing me off) by svana

The original title of this post was, “CIBC fucked me and didn’t buy me dinner first”. I started thinking that perhaps that title didn’t express  the situation fully.

If this offends you, change the channel. I could care less about offending someone who works for this worthless bank. This is a post about my experience, not yours.

For many years I have delighted in the fact that I have not been CIBC customer. I have, in the last 20 years, witnessed a level of incompetence that could only be rivaled by a brain-addled dog trying to breed a snail. From allowing massive over-contributions to TFSA’s, to botching a basic transfer of an investment account…and please do not even get me started on the tellers!

Very recently, I spent 45 minutes of my life trying to convince one CIBC collections agent that the person they were looking for could not be found at my office number. No joke, this person demanded I provide proof that the telephone number they called had been mine for the last 15+ years!

<cue circus music>

In 2011, CIBC purchased the credit card assets of CitiBank.

<Wait, what?!? I have a CitiBank Mastercard>

Uh oh.

In August 2011 I received a letter saying:

“At some indeterminate time in the kinda/sorta future, we’ll send you a new CIBC credit card. Please be a good little lamb and activate it.”

Gotta admit, I was a bit gobsmacked by the loose time frame I received, and to be sure, I was none too pleased with this turn of events. I really didn’t want to be a CIBC lemming <cough> client. However, I held out hope that this might be a good thing and decided to wait. Not one of my shining moments of fore-thought.

Along comes January 2012. I get home from a day at the office  to see that a message is waiting for me. It’s CIBC calling, I am being requested to activate a card that I have not yet received. Hrmmm. Time to call these guys, I suppose. And call I did…

Me: Dials number and follows voice prompts.

CIBC CSR: THANK YOU for calling CIBC my name is FRED. HOW can I HELP you?

Me: Hi Fred, I’m confused about a message that was left on my voice mail. Perhaps you can shed some light on it?


Me: Um, well, FRED, I am being asked to activate a card I do not have. Nor have I received one as yet.


Me: Yeah, I’m sure.

CIBC FRED: We’ve had CLIENTS that don’t open THEIR mail.

Me: Ah, well…no, I open my mail.


Me: Yes, Fred. I am certain.

CIBC FRED: WELL then, your new CIBC PLATINUM MASTERCARD must have been lost by CANADA POST.

Me: Erm…

CIBC FRED: YOU SEE, Canada Post LOST a whole batch of new MASTERCARDS that we sent out in NOVEMBER.

Me: Wait, what? November?

CIBC FRED: YES, November! In FACT your MASTERCARD  was mailed out on or AROUND November 5th.

Me: And it took better than two months for someone to ask me why I hadn’t activated my card as of now?

CIBC FRED: WELL, we have been busy following up with EVERYONE  from the CITI MASTERCARD purchase.

Me: Ok, Fred…I get it. (me thinking: You are too busy trying to emphasize the right words in your script to do your damn job)

CIBC FRED: I’ll TRANSFER you to the MASTERCARD department so you can get a REPLACEMENT CARD. They will BE HAPPY to help you.

Me: Actually Fred, I can’t look into that at the moment but I will call back later tonight.


As a side note, Fred was really beginning to annoy me and I had a kid to pick up from school. I figured it could wait.

When I got back from picking the kid up from school, guess who had called and left a message about me activating a CIBC PLATINUM MASTERCARD. Really? What was this, nag by voice mail? I decided to wait on my call back until I got soothed by my spouse.

After supper, my tummy happily full, my annoyance soothed by my reasonable spouse…my very helpful kid reminded me to call CIBC back. As a dutiful Mom, I complied.

What ensued was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Not only did the CIBC rep not give a flying fig that the whole batch of new CIBC Mastercards were lost, but pointed out to me that I was the only person who seemed to care about this fact. They also intimated that if I was really concerned I would have called them a week after the Mastercards were mailed to follow up.  I responded with two very simple points:

1) Did I receive a letter indicating a solid date of when the new Mastercard was to be mailed? NO, I did not.

2) Am I the client, or is CIBC the client? I am the client, it is YOUR job to provide service.

The CIBC rep then responded with, “Well, the card can still be used until the expiration date. If that’s what you really want to do”. My instant response was <HELL YES>, “Thank you, I will do that. I will also consider whether I wish to continue to do business with CIBC. Thank you so much for providing such clarity”.

You ever miss the days of slamming the phone down with petty satisfaction? I did that night.

You might be asking yourself why I didn’t just get a new card and card number. I asked that too. What I came back with was pretty simple. I had a purchase on this card, that required me to present said card to collect the purchase, and, I have had the same number since the 90’s…dammit, I had the blessed thing memorized! My reasons may seem small and petty, but they felt right to me.

Fast forward to April 19, 2012. CIBC Liberation Day!

Lo and behold, my card no longer works. According to the “manager” I spoke to on the CIBC phone lines, my card had been “dis-activated”. What the hell are you talking about, “dis-activated”?  Then, the “manager” tells me she “empathizes with me”. Lady, you can’t even pronounce it, much less use it. I looked at my supportive spouse, and I started to laugh at the “manager” on the phone, and softly pressed the END button on the phone.

Me: Well, that tears it.

Spouse: What’s going on?

Me: Just taking care of something, one sec. (logging into online banking and paying balance on CIBC Mastercard and writing confirmation number down)

Me: We are no longer clients of CIBC, you want to call? I’m not sure I can be calm with the CSR.

Spouse: Call after supper, you’ll be better by then.

Me: Ok.

And call I did.

The lovely gal was “sad” to see me close our account, and hastened to remind me that I was still bound by the CIBC Mastercard Agreement. I pointed out that as I never had a CIBC Mastercard in my possession, nor did I ACTIVATE a CIBC Mastercard, the Agreement could be argued by my lawyer. She then noted that I would still be bound by my CitiBank Mastercard Agreement, to which I laughed at as well. Since my Citibank Mastercard had been “dis-activated” by CIBC, that same agreement was also null and void. Sorry Pun’kin, not gonna work. All the systematic billings that were set up, have been stopped…all three of them.

Pun’kin: Please destroy the Mastercard.

Me: I will gleefully chop it into little bits as soon as I have that last purchase in my hands…and I’ll mail you the wee bits to prove that I have done as you asked.

Pun’kin: (a bit less cheery) That won’t be necessary.

Me: Thanks so much, buh-bye!

So, why the title of CIBC versus Porn? As far as I’m concerned, CIBC showed as much sensitivity to their new Mastercard clients as the guy that uses spit as a lubricant in a porn.  Both are the same rank of disdain and lack of concern for the person they are going to fuck.

Side note: The names of the CSR’s have been changed to protect their privacy. The company name remains unchanged to protect others.




April 08, 2012
Filed Under (Good Times) by svana

Good Friday started with a dream…

In my dream, I was waking up from a nap. I looked at the clock on the DVD player, and it said 3:43pm. I yelled at my poor spouse (sorry spouse) for letting me sleep through my coffee date scheduled at 1:00pm.

Then I woke up.

Feeling fuzzy eyed, I stumbled into our home office and related my dream to my spouse, and apologised  for yelling at him in my dream. I looked at him and said, “3:43 is going to be an important time today…I don’t know why, but it is”.  As ever, my very tolerant spouse smiled and nodded as if to say, “Sure, sure…go wake up sweetie”, then he went into the kitchen to pull some lunch together for me.

What followed was this….

Spouse: What the fuck?!?

Spouse double-times it out of the house .

Me: WTH?!?

Spouse: trucking up the neighbours driveway, and pauses to rap on the window…and flags me to come outside.

I wander out to the front porch, and peer up the drive…and see the biggest damn white dog I have ever seen.

Spouse: He looks friendly enough, but I think he’s thirsty.

I head back into the house & scare up a bowl big enough for the creature and head back outside. Only to be met with the fact that the dog has wandered off across the street, and my spouse is trying to chase him down in socked feet.

Me: Honey, go put shoes on, I’ll keep an eye on it!

Spouse heads off to get shoes, and I begin to follow said creature through our neighbors back yards across the street. Very soon after the dog finds himself street-side again, my spouse is waiting for us on the sidewalk. We took point positions on either side of the dog ‘s shoulders and navigated it back across the street with our thighs. [Note to self: big dogs only go where they want to go.] Thankfully, the dog was fairly co-operative and allowed us to get him back to our porch and the water.

As luck would have it, my spouse was on the ball and got a good picture of the dog…because the dog had no collar or tags <sigh>, and posted “Found” notices on Google+ and Twitter. I looked at my spouse and said, “I think I need to cancel my date”. This little statement began a 3+ hour journey to find out who would be looking for this pony sized dog.

I called my coffee date and related what had just happened…dream and all, and she was so gracious (Thank you, P!), and I told her I would likely be free by 4:00pm. P asked how I could possibly know that. My answer was so straight forward, it was like I was a voiced puppet, “because my dream highlighted 3:43, so we’ll have found its owner by then”. Of course, any rational person would laugh this off, yet I knew this to be a fact.

After fashioning one of my daughter’s skipping ropes into a makeshift leash, pooch and I were off for a wee walk.  Before anyone gets their knickers in a bunch, we are a cat household and despite the fact we keep dog treats, we do not have a spare leash or collar, the dog was not harmed. As luck would have it, one of the folks that lives a backyard away lent me a spare leash and collar, so pooch and I were much more comfortable, even if he was taking me for a walk every so often.

[Note to self: Even with a leash and collar, big dogs only go where they want to go.]

Pooch and I walked back to our house, and we began our journey through the neighborhood and into Wortley Village proper to see if we could locate the person who must be missing their pet. I quite certain the concept of walking around with no real idea as to where pooch came from seems a bit more than daft, but it was the only plan of action we had.

Wortley Village is a very big “DOG” area… Everyone seems to have a dog, therefore, someone must know this dog. As we wandered and asked every person we saw, “Do you know this dog? He has no collar or tags”… We were met with the rather annoying response of, “What do his tags say?” <sigh>

[Note to self: Holiday Fridays create a disconnect between brain and ears.]

We knocked on doors, we spoke to people on the street, we followed every lead that eventually turned our feet in the right direction. We found a part of the neighborhood that seemed to know this dog…and they said his name was Bentley.

[Note to self: No one is home on Good Friday]

Admittedly, I am not a dog person. I am a person who has spent her entire life observing responses…and this dog did not respond to the name Bentley. No ear perks, no head turn…nada, nothing, zip and zilch. I looked at my spouse and voiced my concern.  I had no problem working to get this dog back to his owner, provided of course, we were on the right track.  Could it be that this dog just didn’t like his name? A very helpful gal walked us to a house where the would-be Bentley could be identified.

Providence! Yes! We were so awesome!

Why didn’t it feel right? Not just to me, but to my spouse too.

Seemingly, this was the place for “Bentley” to be delivered. The homeowner was certain it was him, their dog knew his friend…all’s well that end’s well, right?


We were no more than 5 minutes from dropping “Bentley”, and my spouse received a call on his cell… Nope, not “Bentley”, but they were willing to hold on to the dog for at least 24 hours to allow more time for the owner to be located. <Huge SIGH of relief> Our home is simply not equipped to accommodate a large dog…to say nothing of what the cats would do to him.

[Note to self: Do we need to build a dog run in the backyard?]

We walked home, feeling rather dejected. I looked at my daughter and asked what time it was…2:47pm… well, lets see what will happen in the next 57 minutes. I walked the leash and collar back to my neighbors, and my spouse posted a “Found Dog” notice with picture on Kijiji.

Wouldn’t you know it… the first response as to who the dog belonged to was time stamped…. 3:43pm.  The second response was from the actual owner.

Walter (not Bentley) was happily reunited with his humans by about 4:10pm.

What an excellent adventure for Good Friday, and it was good indeed.

[Final note to self: Pay attention to your dreams. You never know when they might point you in the right direction.]