How I ordered my first chequebook online

My disastrous experiences with technology never seem to end. Apparently, technology doesn’t like me very much and I am afraid the feeling is mutual. You might wonder how one person can have so many ill encounters. Truth is, even I can’t claim to know the reasons. So, let me tell you about one such instance and if you can figure it out, please be kind enough to let me know.

We live in a modern world. Internet has seeped into every aspect of our lives – be it business, education or, even, travel. With terms like e-commerce, e-learning and e-medicine dominating our vocabulary today, everything seems to be just a mouse click away. If only things were that easy. Most of you might be familiar with the term e-banking. Banks offer online services to customers for the convenience of those who are too busy to visit a branch. At least, that’s what I thought.

I had exhausted all the leaves in my chequebook and had to get a new one. I had seen my friend B apply for one online. So, instead of submitting a written request for a new chequebook to the bank, I decided to bypass all the hassle and try my hand at this online business. Little did I know what lay in store for me.

Day 1: I haven’t the faintest idea about how to apply for a chequebook online. My forgetful nature means that I have to set a reminder to ask B about it. The reminder goes off and I march to B’s desk and inquire about the procedure. It might seem strange but, at the very moment that I ask her, I realize that I need my customer ID to log in. I don’t have it at that point and, not surprisingly, can’t recollect it. So, the task gets delayed by a day with a new reminder.

Day 2: I reach B’s desk before the reminder goes off. B launches the bank website and I enter the Customer ID to log in. The trouble is I remember logging into the portal once and changing my password but can’t recollect what I had set it to. The first and last time that I had logged in was more than a year and a half ago. I enter what I think is most likely to be the password and cross my fingers. Miracle of miracles, it works! “That wasn’t so bad”, I say to myself. A few mouse clicks later I reach a point where it asks me to confirm my request for a new chequebook. When I do, it prompts me for my internet transaction password. At this point, B tells me that this password is different from the login password. She says that when you log in for the first time, the portal prompts you to change both the login and transaction password. Now, I remember changing the former but not the latter. She says that if I haven’t changed it, it is probably still the one provided by the bank. Unfortunately, that password is at home. And, so, it seems like I’ll have to wait another day.
B then logs into the bank site and applies for a new chequebook for herself and the entire process takes no more than a couple of minutes. I am fascinated and optimistic that, once I have my password, I will have the same experience. After she is done, I decide to try my login password as my transaction password hoping that I had set both the passwords to the same sequence. The truth is, after B made it look so easy, I am tempted to give it another shot. So, once the login screen appears, I key in my login ID and select the checkbox to use the virtual keyboard.
Now, this virtual keyboard is a fantastic feature. It is an application that provides a keyboard on the screen in which the key locations change with each character entered. The user has to enter the password by clicking on the keyboard with a mouse. In this way, the virtual keyboard is designed to reduce the risk of password theft. Seems like a good idea. Unfortunately, after I select the option to use the virtual keyboard, I wait and I wait and then I wait some more. A few letters show up but the rest of the keys show no signs of getting loaded. After a frustrating few minutes, B suggests that I stop waiting for the virtual keyboard to appear and enter the password using the normal keyboard. So much for password security! I manually key in my password and log in.
After waiting for a few more minutes, all I see is, “This page can’t be displayed”. On further investigation, to my dismay, we realize that the internet server is down. What perfect timing! We decide to try later when the server is up. A little later I manage to log in and key in my login password as the transaction password. It doesn’t work. No surprises there. So, the only alternative is to get the default password and try my hand at it the next day.

Day 3: I don’t need a reminder anymore. I log into the website and use the default transaction password hoping against hope that things will finally work. Well, somehow, where I am concerned, that never really happens. Now, I see a new notice which says that your account has been locked and you have exceeded the number of attempts to log in. This means that I have to apply for a new password. When I click on the link to do this from the company’s restricted network, I see a notice which says, “This page can’t be displayed”. B suggests that I call customer care and raise a request to reset the password. So, I dial the number, select the appropriate options and a recorded voice at the other end asks me to enter my ATM/Debit card number and PIN. Caught by surprise, I ask B, “What number?” She, in her trademark style, replies, “You fool, the number on the ATM card and the PIN that you use to withdraw money”. Now, I didn’t know this was a requirement and don’t have the card on me when I call. So, I hang up. I rarely carry my ATM card but, on that day, it happens to be in my bag. Thankfully, I had forgotten to remove it from my bag a couple of days ago. Being forgetful can be a blessing sometimes. Or maybe, God decided to give me a break after so many spells of rotten luck. So, armed with my card, I place a second call only to have the person at the other end tell me to raise an online request for the new password. So, there I am, back to square one.
The only way to do this is to use the lone PC in the department which has unrestricted internet access. So, I log into the site and place a request. The request fails. This is just great! Now, the bank server is busy and unable to service my request. By now, I am at the end of my tether and cursing the bank and the whole concept of e-banking. I log in a second time and place a request again. This time it goes through. But, there is no elation or sense of accomplishment. Only a sigh of relief. I get a service request number for tracking purposes and a confirmation that I will get the new transaction password within 8 days. I try to track the request just to confirm that it has been logged. And guess what? It says that the record does not exist. I am so fed up at this point that I abandon any more attempts. Since, the password will arrive in eight days and I can only request for a new chequebook after that, it is clear that I won’t be seeing my chequebook for, at least, another 15 days. And, here I was, thinking that internet banking made things simpler and faster. That’s one myth shattered! I decide to submit a written application to the bank instead.

Day 4: It’s a Saturday and brings home an unexpected, but pleasant, surprise. A courier has arrived from the bank. I almost snatch the envelope from my brother’s hand and confirm that it is, indeed, the new password. My happiness knows no bounds. In fact, I am smiling so much that my mother and brother probably think I have gone mad.

Day 5: After four tiresome days, I think I deserve some rest and that is exactly what I do.

Day 6: B starts dreading the moment I mention logging into the bank portal. I don’t blame her. I feel the same way. I call her to my desk this time. Knowing my track record, she asks me to log in and call her only if I am fortunate enough to get through. I try logging into the portal twice and, as usual, fail. After waiting a while, the efforts bear fruit and, with B’s help, I finally complete the procedure.

Two days later my chequebook is delivered. And, what’s more, it even arrives before B’s chequebook. So, I guess, all’s well that ends well.


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