Big Bank v. Little Bank – guess which one was spectacularly useless and unhelpful

I’ve had to do quite a lot of finance stuff over the last few days. Nothing spectacular – just trying to ensure that our savings (such as they are) aren’t entirely eaten away by the government’s entirely sensible decision to punish the prudent and reward the feckless with derisorily low interest rates and insane money-printing (thanks, Dave – nice one, George: much appreciated). Consequently, I’ve dealt with three banks in quick succession (not helped by a cold, having just given up cigars, and being on a low fat, lactose-exclusion diet - very much not a happy bunny).

The two small banks were charming and helpful and provided us with a range of reasonable options evidently tailored for people like us: they both gave the distinct impression of wanting out business, to the extent of offering special rates for existing customers (a welcome novelty in this neophiliac age). The big bank – which the British taxpayer had to save after it recklessly spent its way to the biggest overdraft in banking history, and which we now in effect own – was pleasant enough, but led us to believe that their miserable interest rates (half a percent below what the smaller banks are offering) were entirely the fault of the government, could barely be bothered to rattle through the various financial products on offer, and altogether gave the impression that – as far as they were concerned – we could go and piss up a rope. I’ve been a customer for 43 years.

Of course, they wouldn’t have had the opportunity to be quite so breezily “yeah, whatever” dismissive if my taxes hadn’t helped keep the moronic, greedy fuckers alive in the first place. Still, it’s worth it just to experience their heartfelt gratitude.

Tellingly, the customer relations wallah who keeps phoning me up is, naturally, worried about one thing, and one thing only: that, if contacted by anyone asking us to rate his performance, we should tell them that he’s utterly fabulous. This request is invariably followed by the hilarious question: “Is there anything else I can help you with?” I played the game last time this happened, carefully separating his performance from the bank’s policy of robbing savers. Next time, though, he’s getting both barrels.

I have nothing whatsoever against banks as such, and I’m very tired of the Labour Party’s drearily predictable banker-bashing, especially Gordon Brown created the regulatory and financial climate which allowed the casino mentality to flourish. But whenever I deal with the Big Banks, I can’t help feeling it might have been worth losing a shedload of money just to have seen the arrogant bastards go to the wall.