Complaining? Please scream into the void

Inability to make ourselves heard is driving us mad

When I wonder where all the rage originates, I think about things like my recent interaction with Citizens Bank, which has refused to acknowledge the fraudulent use of my debit card.

I called more than a week ago, and after a long time on hold, explained the situation to a helpful woman, said police were investigating and had evidence of the fraud, gave her the detective’s name and received her assurances. 

This past Monday, I received a letter from the bank, which stated, “based upon the review of the account and history, fraud did not occur.”

I called the local branch, where I was told they couldn’t help me.

“If we want to reach the fraud department, we have to call the same 800 number you do,” two separate people at the bank told me.

“You have no way of reaching anyone to deal with fraud suffered by your customers?” I said.

“Yes,” they said.

Part of me refuses to believe that. But part of me thinks that would be right — the same way companies scrub phone numbers from their websites, so you can’t call with complaints, they make it impossible to report it when you’ve been ripped off, even for their own employees.

“I don’t have time to spend half an hour on hold,” I said to one of the workers at the local branch.

“Half an hour is good. Often it’s more than an hour,” he said.

“So the bank is intentionally understaffing its call center to discourage people calling about fraud,” I said.

“I wouldn’t say they’re intentionally —“

“Right,” I said.

At 12:05, I was put on hold on the 800 line, and at 12:35, a man with no authority who seemed to be speaking English as a second language picked up. He would pass my concerns on to the fraud department, he said.

“So this isn’t the fraud department?”

“I will pass your concerns on to them, sir.”

He expressed no interest in the details of my case, but I gave them to him anyway, including the detective’s name and the case number.

“OK, thank you, sir,” he said.

“Do you want the name of the police department so they can call?”

“That’s not necessary, sir.”

“I think it is necessary. Do you even know where I’m calling from?”

“Um … OK, give me the name of the department.”

I gave it to him.

“Let me get you a reference number,” he said and put me on hold again for several more minutes.

He gave me the number — CFG02924881. I may as well list it here, because otherwise it’s worthless.

The man who spoke stilted English said there would be a “second review” and “request for call-back.”

“When can I expect a call?” I said, and he said 1-2 business days.

At 12:50, I hung up.

That was Monday, today is Saturday. No call.

Citizens claims its customers are covered when their debit cards are used fraudulently. 

But even worse than the false claim is the way the bank makes it impossible for a customer to plead their case. The system is a rabbit hole of passive aggression. The people you reach cannot help you, and every switch to someone else entails more minutes lost listening to an awful soundtrack.

Citizens does not offer the option of having a representative call you back, because the goal is to make you give up, which I have.

Bella and I opened an account at Marine Midland in Saranac Lake 37 years ago. The bank branch was next to the Adirondack Daily Enterprise, where I worked. We kept the account as HSBC acquired Marine Midland in the 1980s and then as Citizens took over HSBC operations in the U.S. 

I wonder if it’s time now to make a futile bid for accountability and close the account.

I wonder, too, if these alienating experiences, in which we get mistreated by a large company, then jerked around when we complain — experiences that have become more and more common — cultivate frustration that bursts out in other settings, when we’re online or driving or discussing politics.

Being taken advantage of feels bad, but it turns toxic when you try to object and cannot make yourself heard.