Friendly Service

Dear Arizona State Credit Union,

Hello there. John Ryan McKever here. Your computers may remember me as account number XXXXXXXXXX. I know we haven’t corresponded in a while, but I have some bad news for you. I’m afraid that, after something like ten great years (wow, has it really been that long?) of a solid, dependable, and personally enriching bank-to-client relationship, after auto loans and credit cards with a mercifully low interest rates, and after finding myself on first-name bases with so many of the professional-yet-cheerful representatives at your Flagstaff-Beaver Street branch, it’s just not working out between us anymore. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, since your computers literally cannot register that kind of thing, but our relationship has to end here. I’ve already moved on, and I know deep down that you will be able to do the same, even without me.

Here’s my actual, serious business request: I need to close my entire account with you—checking, savings, and my recently paid-off Visa—permanently. I don’t want to rush you, but I would appreciate it if you could do this at your earliest convenience and if you could send a check for my remaining account balance, which should be only a paltry $15, to:

John Ryan McKever
XXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXXX
Portland, OR XXXXX

It’s been great, though, and we’ve had some good times, to be sure; you were my first bank, after all. The remembrance of our first meeting, me a long-haired fifteen-year-old with my first real paycheck for the then-mind-boggling sum of about $180, and you a cold, sterile, brown cement affair with a faux-fireplace and free mints, still reaches out and forward through time to tug at my heartstrings. I was so confused, having never dealt with a financial institution or my own personal income before, and more accustomed to Mountain Dew, the Smashing Pumpkins, and ultra-violent ninja video games than commitment and fiscal responsibility, but your guiding hands and professional wisdom saw me through that daunting process.

And now look at me: I’m a college-educated adult, I live in another state, I have another credit card, and, if you must know, I’m with another bank, and it seems to be doing a very good job of holding onto my money for me. So, I guess it’s all in the open now. If it makes you feel any better, though, the other bank is still a credit union—I find you all just so refreshingly ethical and transparent, and I can only thank you for helping me to acquire such socially responsible taste in abstract, coolly inhuman business entities. The upshot of all this, and the part I’d like you and any customer service or quality control staff you may have to take to heart, is: It’s not you, it’s me. You’ve never done me wrong, and I’ll always appreciate that.

I hope this letter is enough. I don’t usually like breaking news like this in anything less than a face-to-face setting—too impersonal, if you ask me—but my circumstances simply don’t permit that kind of interaction right now, and this letter is the best I can do. After speaking with one of your very informative (but very obviously outsourced) online customer service representatives, I learned that you would accept a written request for account closure, so I figured I would make the most of it. After all, I’ve always enjoyed writing good, old-fashioned letters. They just seem so authentic and genuine in today’s age of electronically-enabled impersonality and coolly inhuman business entities which market themselves as the smiling providers of friendly service, individual attention, and authentic, personal care for and understanding of the customer’s needs, whatever they may be. If you, Arizona State Credit Union, can turn a human face to me, then I can turn one to you, and I’m glad that I had the wonderful opportunity to write you this letter so that I could do exactly that. I’m sure you can tell that I enjoyed writing it, and I sincerely hope that you’ve enjoyed reading it. Really.

If, for any reason, you need to contact me about anything I’ve written here, or if you need to confirm the actual, serious business request (which I assure you is, by itself, 100% non-ironic) from paragraph two, above, in any way, shape or form, I hope you won’t hesitate to call me at the cellular number which your computers know by heart. I prefer late morning or mid-day.

Good Luck and Goodbye,

John Ryan McKever

P.S. My new credit union has free coffee in the lobby. Free. All the time. Just saying.