To Whom It May Concern

Dear Friends at BAC,

I’ve visited your website and reviewed your extensive list of services. I see you offer checking and savings accounts with promotional interest rates for your
customers and extend special deals to businesses that choose to manage their money with you. You write that your bank is committed to the needs of the customer, committed to excellence, committed to providing clients access to their money and accounts at any moment. Your site is navigable and colorful. You certainly convey a nice image through the internet.

We’ve visited your headquarters in Granada a number of times as well, and like your website, it is also very well maintained. We enjoy waiting in line in the foyer to use your ATMs because you have beautiful tile floors and keep the air conditioning running full blast long after the main bank has closed. You offer respite from the 90 degree afternoons and evenings we have here in Nicaragua.

On Saturday, we came again. We brought our foreign checking card and stood in line as usual. Thank you for having ATMs compatible with our US accounts. Suyen, Kay, Marisa, Cindy, and I waited expectantly for our turn at the Cajero Automatico (it was PayDay after all) and admired the glossy banners surrounding us which advertise the ease of use and convenience your Cajeros (ATMs) offer to your clients.

Our turn came and we stuck the card in the slot. We typed in our four digit code and selected our checking account. We wanted dollars.The Cajero processed the amount and directed us to “Please take your money.” Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, we heard the money fanning out inside. Only a few more seconds and we could dole out the cash our youth leaders had been working so hard for all weeklong.We waited. “Please take your money” – the message blinked again. We put out our hands. “Please take your money”, it insisted. Kay and I looked at each other, foreheads scrunched, “Dude, what money?”

BAC, your money door never opened. We waited, knowing that our wad of dollars was just pressing up on the inside of your money door, desperate to get out and into our hands. We knew our dollars were in limbo, no longer in our account, stuck in what we imagined as Middle Earth…a terrible place where it no longer lived safely in its account, but hadn’t yet arrived at its intended destination – our hands.

BAC, we sat on your steps for two more hours that night and waited (a bit more expectantly now) as your armed security guards dialed mysterious numbers and talked in hushed voices. We felt so badly for our wad of dollars, still squished inside the Cajero which your guards unplugged from the wall and seemed to forget. They moved one of your glossy banners in front of it and we stared at it. It read “Gana tiempo. Saque tu dinero en este momento con nuestros Cajeros. (Save time. Take your money out this very moment using our ATMs.)” Your guards have a gift for irony.

A technician named Geraldo came and knocked on the money door for a little while, but it still wouldn’t open even for him. His daughter came too and banged her Barbie’s head against the money door. Still nothing. He told us to come back Monday to get our wad of dollars.

It’s Monday. We’ve walked through your beautifully tiled foyer three times today and under your metal detector arch and talked with the pretty ladies in skirts who sit behind your polished desks and smile. They said they are not authorized to remove our dollar wad from Middle Earth and deliver it our hands. Geraldo hid behind the bulletproof glass and counted someone else’s dollar wad and refused to look at us in the eyes. I wanted to knock on the huge money door that led to his little hide-out in the back and get his attention, but I restrained myself.

I guess I’m just writing you to ask where our dollar wad is now. I noticed today that in the foyer the broken Cajero from Saturday seems to be fixed, and it’s no longer hiding behind the glossy banner. It’s lights are blinking green and it seems healthy, so I want to know, where did the dollar wad go that was stuck in its throat on Saturday?

We’ll keep coming in to sit in your air conditioned foyer, but we’ll begin to become a nuisance if you don’t start to acknowledge us. Our bosses in the US are calling you this very moment to talk about your Cajero, and ask about Geraldo, and they’re not as forgiving as we are.

BAC, when you cough up the wad, we’ll be able to lay this to rest, but as of right now, I’m headed out the door to visit your Granada headquarters again.

Looking forward to doing more business with you in the future.

Sincerely, your loyal customer,
Zoey Bouchelle