Yesterday morning could have been one of the must frustrating in history. Or, maybe just one of the most frustrating in a long time.

What really hacked me off was a run-in I had with a bank broker. These folks are my least favorite financial professionals on the planet (with CPAs who purport to understand investments and be your All In One financial person running a close second).

Disclaimer: I’m sure there are lovely bank brokers out there. Wonderful. Ethical. Kind and compassionate. I’ve just never met one yet. /END Disclaimer

Naming this bank would be a bad move, I think. Why take career chances online? Let’s just say it’s a massive bank with innumerable branches nationwide. A very patriotic Bank, obviously based in the US. It’s on the list of top ten largest Banks in the US, but just barely.

I’m just sad I can’t call them out.

So, what happened. Very little gets under my skin at this point in my life then seeing people fucked by financial professionals. I don’t work myself to death in order for some schmuck to come along and ruin it for everyone else by screwing people who trust him. That just makes my job ten times harder.

The kind folks at this bank brokerage took my clients by the nose and led them down a path that cost them nearly 9% in fees that they never should have paid. In my industry, there are ways to make a lot of money: the hard way, and the easy way. The hard way is working your butt off. The easy way is doing the wrong thing for the client. They trust you; you screw them.

This makes my blood boil.

So, point of the story is that my client wanted me to call their bank broker’s boss, with whom they’d met in February, in order to clear up just what fees the bank was willing to refund. After three messages left to this guy in two days, his assistant calls me back, and then assumes I’m a moron (I guess). Patiently, professionally, I continuously point out where she’s wrong, and she gets frustrated and calls her boss to the phone.

He turns on speakerphone (nice gambit) and proceeds to condescend to me, acting like he actually gives a shit whether or not my client gets the right amount back. After about ten minutes of this dog-and-pony show, we’re all frustrated. They realize that 1) I’m not a moron; and 2) I’m not rolling over on this. My own realization strikes about four sentences from the end of the conversation.

Me: “You realize, of course, that the fee was $110, and you only refunded half that, because my client had a dividend paid to you by accident right before the fees posted?”

Him: “No, this is the agreement with your client.”

At this point I realize that he led my client to believe that the fee wasn’t the whole $110, but only $50.

Me: “Is this broker still working for your firm?”

Him: “Yes.”

Me: “You realize, of course, as ethical financial professionals, we’re called to educate our clients as to exactly what their fees are and why they are being charged?”

Him: “As an ethical person who’s been in this industry as long as I have blah blah blah blah blah blah this conversation is over. Is there anything else you need?” [very clipped tone]

Me: “At this time, I have what I need.”

[CLICK]

The bastard hung up on me.

The sorry part is that this charming snake is a branch manager. Those are the people put into place to keep the brokers from being malicious.

I was soooo incredibly angry. And when I’m soooo incredibly angry, I cry. So as my anger scale is climbing through the roof, I call my client. And by the time she answers, I’m all, “Hi, it’s Michelle. ::sniffle:: Can you ::sniffle:: hang on a sec?” Deep breath, deep breath. “Okay, I’m back.”

She was less than pleased.

Then there was a big run-in with my firm giving a client a breakpoint in sales charges that wasn’t earned or even listed in writing anywhere. Now, this is lovely wonderful spectacular for my client, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad it worked out that way for him. But, damn. When my commissions show that something is quite off (in my mind) and no one at the mutual fund company or my firm can back up what they’re saying with a written policy or statement, something smells bad. In the financial services industry, if it’s not written down, it just doesn’t exist. Period. So, I had to battle them all to find out why my commission took a haircut.

It was just the principle of the thing. If you’re going to mess with my pay, at least have the sense to have a written policy regarding it. Okay?

Geez.

Venting,

michelle