Since my mom is laid up, I’ve been trying to get a handle on her finances. Yesterday, I went to the local bank in the town I grew up — the same bank my parents have had an account for oh, 50 years or so, and the same bank I had an account for 30 or so before closing it a couple years ago when I moved out of the area.
Armed with only a tax statement showing the interest she’d earned on various CDs over the past year, I stepped up to the teller and asked if I could find out the amount of the CDs. I said they were my mother’s CDs, and I was her daughter. The address portion of the little interest statement had fallen off, so I told her my mother’s name, and she used the account numbers on the statement to look up each CD and write down the amount for me and the maturity date. It was very helpful.
Now, I’m sure you are as inundated as I am with “Privacy Statements” and “Privacy Policies” and “Privacy Notices” from every financial institution you do business with (you know, those little slips of paper and booklets you throw away all the time). And you have to sign away your privacy rights every time you go to a doctor’s office (thanks to HIPAA’s 2003 Privacy Rule).
So how is it that I was able to get all this “private” account information soley based on my saying I was somebody’s daughter and producing a tax document I could have found on the street? I produced no I.D. and shared no legal documents saying I had the right to see my mother’s financial information (though I had both with me).
Yes, I should call the bank manager to complain, but I don’t really want to get the teller in trouble. She meant well, and I was actually happy to get the info I needed with so little effort. And I really do think that it wouldn’t have happened at a larger bank (where my mother and I also have accounts). But, it does make you think — all the Acts, laws, corporate policies & procedures, required mailings, and signed acknowledgements don’t mean squat in the end. All it takes is one nice, well-meaning employee to make all those checks and balances meaningless.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
~ 16th century proverb
Writing by Ear 
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