El Andalous - Internet Banking

Premier Romance Sunbed, Sahl Hasheesh

Some time ago, I received a call from the bank, requesting that I come in to collect my PIN from them. I actually had my phone switched on, which was a bit of a novelty, so I did take the call, but was a bit alarmed that they weren’t just wanting me to come in to collect the PIN; they also wanted me to state immediately when I would come in. I felt a bit frustrated as it would be easier and cheaper if it could just be sent to me, but this was obviously not how it worked.

Anyway, I went in as requested on the specified day and he handed me over the PIN in one of those protected envelopes and explained several times that this was the PIN for internet banking and not for my debit card. When I asked about my debit card, they informed me this would be delivered within the next week and I would be able to set my PIN for that via internet banking.

I didn’t bother opening the envelope as there was no immediate need. As promised, the debit card also arrived, by courier. Again, I didn’t open it for a while since I couldn’t access any cash machines at the moment anyway due to me being housebound. However, after ordering some mosquito protectors for my doors and paying the deposit, I was suddenly running low of cash and thought I should really turn myself to sorting out the card and the PIN.

I think I was delaying because a part of me somewhere just knew that this wouldn’t run smoothly.

I started off by opening both envelopes. At the bank, the manager had warned me that I might have written over the PIN while using the envelope to rest on as I wrote down my phone number for him, so I opened it with some trepidation. However, all was well. The print for the PIN was faint, but legible. What was a bit confusing was that it claimed it was the PIN for telephone banking and not for internet banking. I don’t want to do telephone banking!

I then opened the debit card, which told me that I had to set my PIN by telephone banking. What is it about the Egyptians that make them like the phone so much? I even received a letter by normal post the other day (yes! I was surprised! But it arrived!) and they asked me to give a phone number and someone would phone me to check it had arrived. What a palaver! To date, they still haven’t phoned me, though, although I may have misremembered my number.

So, here I was, faced with conflicting information. The bank told me it was my internet PIN and that my debit PIN could be set via internet banking; my correspondence told me it was my phone banking PIN and that my debit PIN should be set via telephone banking.

I started off with the internet, since that was my preference, but it wouldn’t accept my PIN and I couldn’t sign in using telephone banking credentials because I didn’t know what my telephone banking number was (it wasn’t my account number, card number or telephone number – I tried!)

I had no option but to try telephone banking. The first four or five times, the phone just shut down on me. Anyway, eventually, I got the phone to ring. Of course, it was an automated voice, asking me to press 2 for English. I looked at my phone. The screen was black. How do I press 2 when you don’t have a keyboard? I pressed a few random icons at the bottom of the screen but I wasn’t sure what any of them did. I ended up hanging up as I was a bit scared about what these random buttons may be doing. I hate mobile phones!

I brought up the user manual on my computer and hunted around until I could find out how to bring up the keyboard when you are in the middle of a phone call. It was all so much faff.

Eventually, I got the phone to ring again and I managed to press 2. I went through all the menu options until it asked for my PIN. I entered my PIN and it wasn’t recognised by the system. I put the phone down, did it all again, typed in my PIN extra carefully, but still the system wouldn’t recognise the PIN. Maybe it was the PIN for internet banking after all?

Again, I went on the computer, went to the HSBC site and found a map of the options for the phone banking and saw a route by which you can get to order a new phone banking PIN, so I decided to do that, although it made a bit of a mockery of me having to go into the bank to fetch my PIN, which I obviously didn’t need.

So, on I went to the phone banking system again, through all the hurdles until I was on the line waiting for a customer service assistant. I waited, and waited, and waited. It kept on telling me that they were available until 11pm. I wasn’t going to stay online until 11pm and I wondered if this was how they made their money, by getting people to wait endlessly on the phone. In the end I gave up and decided to phone at night when maybe it was less busy.

I went on again in the evening, as planned, went through all the hurdles and ended up with a real person.

I don’t know what it is, as I think they are all speaking very clear English, but for some reason I cannot understand Arabic people when they are on the phone. Maybe I am in a state of panic? Maybe I haven’t adjusted to the Arabic lilt? In any case, it is very embarrassing as I keep on having to say that I can’t understand; they get very frustrated and I get increasingly flustered and embarrassed. Why do people like the phone?

The woman said a lot of words and went through a very long explanation and in the end I understood that she was putting me through to somewhere else and that there were certain rules for making up the PIN that I couldn’t quite grasp apart from that it couldn’t be 123456 or 111111. I braced myself for the next person, but this time it was just an automated voice and I just typed in my number, phew! There was no option afterwards to confirm or to hang up, so I just hung up and hoped that all was well. In truth, I had no clue. I hoped the woman hadn’t told me to select another option afterwards, because if she had, I hadn’t done it.

I wanted to give up at this point, but I really needed a PIN for my debit card or I wouldn’t be able to access any of my money. In fact, I didn’t really want the telephone banking PIN at all. Me and telephone baking won’t get on, I just know it.

I decided to have another go at internet banking now that I had the telephone banking PIN. However, still none of my numbers worked as a telephone banking number and still I couldn’t access internet banking. Finally, I found a FAQ for telephone banking on the HSBC website and hidden somewhere in there, under an answer not to do with telephone banking numbers, was the information that your telephone banking number was the first, say, 8 digits of your account number, followed by the number 6. How random is that?!

Miraculously, this worked and I finally found myself on the internet banking system. However, to access the full functionality of the internet banking system, you had to order one of those security keypads. There was a funny cartoon of the history of banking security, showing the last great innovation to be the Swiss locked vault and now the Egyptian security keypad had come along as the next great improvement.

I ordered the keypad, slightly despondent at yet another delay to my accessibility, looked around on the basic functionality of internet banking, but there was no way to alter your PIN for your debit card. I would have to go back to telephone banking.

So, there I was again, on the phone, going through all the options. Fortunately, it was all automated, so less stressful than dealing with a person, and it even accepted my new phone banking PIN, and then on I went to the automated voice asking me for my suggested debit card PIN. I typed in my desired PIN. There was a moment’s silence and it said it would put me through to a customer representative. I immediately hung up.

I tried again, and when I got through I offered a different suggested debit card PIN. This time the system said it didn’t recognise what I had pressed. I found this encouraging as at least it wasn’t trying to put me through to a human, and I now entered the number I originally wanted, only this time I thumped extra hard and extra carefully on my keypad, since it looked as if that had been the problem. An electronic voice asked me to confirm – was this success? I thumped in the numbers again and I got confirmation of the number. At long last, I’d succeeded. It may have taken me almost a whole day to do it, but I got there in the end.

Moving is supposed to be stressful, and people generally think of the act of moving, but actually it is all this getting yourself sorted malarkey that is just as, if not more, stressful.