O O Ø O O O O
Record Profits
It started very simply—it always does. I logged into my Internet banking, and, in making an exceedingly rare transaction from my savings (not chequing) account, noticed an item I had not noticed there before:
Bank Book Fee. $2.00
First, I was surprised to discover that I did, in fact, have a bankbook-based account. (In my defense, I opened the account when I was 12, and may not have payed as close attention to the legalities as I should have.) Second, I was a little surprised to see the bank charging a fee for the convenience of not sending me a statement. Furthermore, this seemed like a fairly dirty trick. Since it applied exclusively to non-statement-generating, low-transaction accounts, it seems almost inevitable that this service fee would go unnoticed for months, even years before its account holders became aware of it.
In short, it seemed like a dirty little cash grab. So when did this mysterious charge first appear? It was hard to tell. I’m ashamed to say that once, in Grade 9, I apparently failed to check my pockets fully before throwing my jeans in the wash, and my bank-book went to see the great updater in the sky. Furthermore, I never bothered to get another one, learning shortly thereafter that whenever the magical bankbook machine’s buffer filled up—once every two or three years if memory serves—they would just print the transactions out and mail them to me anyway.
So I forgot about my bankbook account. In fact, I didn’t use my savings account at all for a few years, save the occasional deposit that I wanted to keep separate for reasons that I’m sure were important at the time. The only reason I kept it around was that it wasn’t costing me anything, since I didn’t actually do any transactions with it. Until recently, when I needed somewhere to stash my tax withholdings (the University’s computer systems apparently unable to compute withholdings on scholarships correctly).
To make this long story somewhat shorter, I was being charged a fee, and I wanted to know for how long. Firing up my trusty web browser, I pulled up a list of bankbook transactions as far back as they would go, hoping to see the same list I would see next time my bankbook statement was generated.
No dice. The Royal’s web banking system only goes back 90 days—the bankbook fee apparently going back farther. I called the magical telephone banking number, and after punching the appropriate 27-digit incantation, was eventually connected to a person. And that person helpfully explained to me that, as of the summer, bank book accounts now charged a $2.00 monthly fee, and that I should have gotten a letter explaining that fact to me.
I checked my files. Understand that I’m not normally the kind of guy to lose paperwork. Though my filing system *does& consists of a large pile for the better part of 11.5 months, come tax time, the pile is reduced to a slew of dated and two-level-categorized files. Opening my bankbook account file, I came across one lonely piece of paper—a statement covering the 40-odd transactions from 2000 to 2003, and nothing since. Confused, I checked my other account—a more traditional statement-producing chequing account. There, in 8-point font in the area of my June statement usually reserved for the “electronic statements are here” or “buy RBC insurance for your loved ones” messages were the fateful words:
On July 1, 2006, we will be introducing some changes to our services fees and features, which may affect your account(s). Please take a moment to review the enclosed brochure for details … or visit www.rbcroyalbank.com/servicefeechanges.
How could I be so stupid. Having been numbed to the region of 8-point font by years of marketing messages encouraging me to refer to the enclosed brochures in order to purchase services I don’t want or need, I had utterly failed to notice the message telling me to read the enclosed brochure and recognize that they mentioned possible changes to a completely different account that I may or may not have.
Of course, in reading that statement, I noticed something else: I was no longer receiving the original canceled cheques from my chequing account. In fact, I wasn’t even receiving copies of them. Another call to telephone banking, and another 27-digit incantation later, I had my representative on the line, explaining things to me:
“You have to pay for those now. Unless you say ‘no paper statements.’ Then you can see your statements online for free.”
“What about the cheques?”
“Those you can only see for 90 days.”
“And what if I want copies of my cheques from before that?”
“You have to pay for them.”
One 40km car ride to the Home Branch later, I had things sorted out. Apparently, even though holders of my particuar account are entitled to receive copies of their cheques free with every statement, and although holders of my particular account used to receive their cheques free with every statement, It was up to me to press the little button on the web site to make them actually continue sending said cheques. And then I remembered the Press Release:
Royal Bank is bumping up its dividend as its first-quarter profit hit a record $1.49 billion, handily beating analysts’ estimates.
Canada’s largest bank said Friday profit for the first three months of its fiscal year was up more than 27 per cent over the first quarter of the previous year.
Royal attributed the profit jump to a 31 per cent growth in earnings at its Canadian personal and business banking operations…
Gosh, I wonder why.
Kjell Wooding
March 20, 2007
OOØOOOODCCCVIII
April 28th, 2007 at 5:19 am
Peace people
We love you
December 15th, 2007 at 7:55 am
very interesting, but I don’t agree with you
Idetrorce