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Banking has become
an almost indispensable part of our lives. These days, our banks have
become more than just financial institutions that help manage our
finances; they have also become essential components of the image we
strive so much to project. This might explain why some banks are
considered all-comers, others considered exclusive; some perceived as
for the older demography while others are seen as catering to the young
and dynamic. Thus, it came as a huge shock to me that my bank-regarded
as new generation, exclusive, belonging to the young and dynamic-would
require over a month to transfer my ATM card from one branch in Lagos
to another, also in Lagos.

When I first
elected my bank to serve me in all the financial capacities they
claimed to possess, it was with a thrill, a sense of achievement, that
the right company had been voted for and I had made a noble choice.
Their branding was – and maybe still is – second to none in the
country. Their policy contained everything that I could require from a
financial manager. It was to be the beginning of a date with destiny. I
met members of this exclusive domain and they all had wonderful tales
to tell about the organisation. The bank’s front men and women that I
came in contact with had huge disarming smiles that sucked me in. I was
sure everything was grand and the future of my financial worries was
secure.

One of the things I
was quick to learn was that, to enjoy certain benefits of this
wonderful group, I had to be a card carrying member. To this, I
obliged. This card was a wonder to behold, and it performed tasks that
seemed nothing short of magical. From anywhere in the country, I could
interact with the folks with the huge smiles, consult with them, and
enjoy financial liberation even without being in the same state with
them. This wonder card is called an ATM card.

A major feature of
the card is that it has an expiration date. Upon the near expiration of
my card, my bank began rigorous campaigns enjoining me to pick up
another one and run with it for another term. It took a while for me to
budge, for I had become too preoccupied with other things to bother
much about expiration of tenures and such matters. But, I eventually
got round to it. As if sensing my tired state, my bank informed me
through one of the ‘smiles’ that I didn’t have to go to the designated
centre where it all began. I could go to a closer one, fill out a form
and have my new and improved card sent to me. I rejoiced at this and
followed the laid out procedure to the letter. It has been over a month
and I am yet to receive my card. This suggests that it takes quite a
while to transfer a card from Ojodu to Yaba.

I have made phone
calls and registered complaints on websites. The people who were so
willing for me to be a card carrying member of their association,
welcoming me with very wide smiles and making me feel like the most
important person in the world, now put me on hold for four minutes; and
still no one returns to attend to me. Every visit to their Yaba centre
meets with a casual, “We are sorry. Please, come back”. With that, I am
discarded, as the smile that was once flashed at me is tuned on at the
instance of another unsuspecting poor unfortunate soul.

When the campaigns were being made for me to align myself with them,
I was promised a financial heaven on earth. Now, they are sorry that I
can’t get everything I was promised. The situation is just not that
easy, they say. The tasks before them are herculean and they also have
resource issues. I am expected to understand, bear with them and
exercise patience; in hope that, someday, I will be remembered and
issued with my ATM card. Until then, maybe I can distract myself with
the unfolding drama of the coming elections. Funny how there are some
striking similarities between my bank and the guys jostling for my
votes.