THE VAULTS OF TRAUMA

Photo Credit - www.nigeriamusicmovement.com

The last time I checked, financial institutions are meant to be a safe haven for our hard earned cash and valuables. Unfortunately, today’s reality in Nigeria states otherwise.

Allow me take you through the often-than-not scenarios I, and I’m sure most of you in Nigeria, experience in most Nigerian banks.

For starters, just deciding to go to the bank is a critical decision in itself that many of us make with trepidation. Can you make it in and out within a specified time? What branch to visit, at what time, is your “guy” that fast tracks things on duty, and what sort of transaction you need to conduct – all play key roles in helping you make your decision. One would think you were going for a root canal instead of a simple visit to your local bank.

You finally summon enough courage and make it to the bank after several survived attempts at knocking down a careless pedestrian or getting your car scratched by recklessly manoeuvring okada riders and danfo drivers.  At the bank, the parking lots are completely full while the security personnel you “tipped” is now trying to find you a strategic spot that won’t result in your car being blocked by someone else for the next four hours.

Finally, you head for the metal detector security doors. At this point, I’m always grateful because, the most I get to do is raise my hands above my head in the surrender pose; exposing my phone, keys and wallet while looking ridiculous in the glass booth with stale elevator music and even staler air. If you’re lucky, with the right pitiful look to the security guard on the other side of freedom, he will show compassion and buzz you in if you don’t look like someone about to heist the place up.  The unlucky have the pleasure of taking off virtually all they have on thanks to “Gemma,” the automated British voice in the glass booth who dispassionately tells the damned to “please remove all metal objects from your bag.”

After several unsuccessful attempts of entry through the metal detectors; many are forced to channel airport immigration by removing their belts, foot wear, watches, glasses, jewelry but still are not granted access due to some phantom metal object. I’ve witnessed some desperate customers leave their bags in makeshift lockers by the entrance in the hopes their belongings will still be there when they return. I’ve also seen women arguing with security guards; ranting about how they didn’t come with a yellow Shoprite plastic bag but an Italian leather bag or some designer bag.

When you finally make it into the banking hall, you’re thinking you’re almost done with the ordeal. It only gets more interesting. You now find yourself in front of, in most cases, some young dolled up twenty-something smacking on gum and talking to some “uncle” on the phone with a fake British accent. Now, you’re almost begging that this unserious, makeup-laden, due-for-sacking, unprofessional, geographer-turned- banker, with little or no customer service ethics attends to you. Don’t be surprised if you have to wave your hand in front of her face before she even acknowledges your presence. Like things aren’t heating up already. You make a simple enquiry and you get nothing close to an answer because, either she doesn’t have a clue or she’s just feeling tired at 10 am and chooses to refer you to somebody else; because you’re already becoming a “problem” customer.

Count yourself lucky if you get your transaction done in time. If not you’d hear, “Sir, can you please sit over there while we confirm…” Confirm what!? Don’t you have my photograph and my account details readily available on your system? Or my signature doesn’t match this time? How long do I have to spend in this bank before I am able to just withdraw a few thousands of Naira!?

After 40 minutes of waiting, the only reason I’m not yelling at the top of my voice is because there are about three other people already doing that and demanding to see the bank manager. Fuming internally while sitting next to other customers experiencing the same ordeal, I passively listen to a few of them who refuse to remain silent through this nightmare. A woman had requested for her ATM card for over five months now, and she’s yet to receive it. And yet, when you make withdrawals at the cashier’s desk, you’re charged an extra fee for not using your ATM…Now, who does that!?

After a much longer wait by another customer, his ATM is finally ready. But the printers are not working. So, he has to wait for another 30 minutes to get his ATM PIN or come back the following day. When he requested to withdraw some needed cash, he has been told to wait since the computer system is down and no one knows when it will go back up.

Photo Credit - www.bvonlove.com

Just when I think I can’t take another minute of this torture, Gemma’s Nigerian sister calls out to me, “Mr. Jawnseen” as in Johnson. With utmost disgust written all over my face, I collect the cash without so much as a thank you and run to save whatever’s left of my sanity!

If I were a conspiracy theorist, my theory would be that banks intentionally set out to frustrate and deprive customer’s access to their money. Think about this “far-fetched” theory when next you visit your local vault of trauma and see how many minutes it takes before you completely lose it.

‘Seun Johnson is an Editorial Assistant at Ayaka. As a graduate of Sociology, his understanding of social structures and patterns of relationship shape his perspectives to life and how he defines them.