Do You Really Need My ID?

Once again, today’s rant is nothing earth-shattering. In fact, it’s just a minor little bitch the affects just me. Well, me and maybe a few thousand other people who suffer this same annoyance. I just hope that somebody hears me, and makes a few changes.
I’ve stated many, many times how much I love my bank…particularly their drive-through tellers. Well, that’s not so true anymore, as the beauties that used to take care of my bank needs have either transferred to other locations or have left the company. I hope these decisions have nothing to do with my presence. :)
You may recall that I had an earlier complaint about this company. Instead of just handling my business and sending me on my way, they began wasting my time by offering stupid deals. Sorry, but that’s not what I’m at the bank to deal with, but thankfully that program has been retired…at least for now.
No, this is a new complaint. It’s actually a very, very minor complaint, but it is something that annoys me. Isn’t that why I’m here?
Whenever I make a deposit, I request a small part of it back to me in cash. Trust me, it’s a minor portion…generally less than 10%. Yet to get these few bucks given to me, I have to hand over not one but two ID’s.
I understand that identity theft is a big deal these days (especially if you follow the media), but as I said this is less than 10% of my total deposit. Plus, there’s a signature on my paycheck and deposit slip. They obviously have a copy of that on record.
I could understand this policy if I was simply cashing my paycheck, or was taking back the majority of the money. Again, I’m just taking back whiskey-coke money! No thief worth his reputation would deny themselves so much to take so little.
Don’t worry, I understand what everybody is saying at this point. What’s the big deal? You give then what they request, and you get them right back. You don’t know how I operate. The teller loads everything into a little envelope, which I then toss onto my passenger seat. Hours later, or it could be the next day, I don’t have my driver’s license or credit card when I need it. By then, in fact, it’s buried under Ipods, books, magazines, mail, and other junk.
So I’m here today to beg the fine people at my bank – please change this policy. Or at the very least, let me sign some piece of paper that absolves you if somehow I’m robbed by a thrifty thief who really doesn’t want to do me much harm. I’m willing to take the risk if it gets me through your drive-through a minute or so faster.


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