My bank
sent me an email the other day with the subject line, “We’re Updating our
Mobile and Online Banking Service Agreement.” Here was the first paragraph:
We
may add, delete or change the terms of the Service Agreement at any time. We'll
let you know of changes when legally required and will try to notify you of the
nature of any material changes, even when not legally required to do so. We may
communicate changes by either mail, email or a notice on our website (where we
will also make the updated terms available). Continuing to use the service
after the date changes are made means you agree to the updated Service
Agreement.
I’m willing
to bet you’ve received a similar email within the past six months from a bank,
cable company, social-media website or some other large agency unless you are
living under a rock or are in a coma.
Actually, even in these last two circumstances you probably have
received a similar email; you just don’t know it yet.
And joyful
tidings they bring, these emails, don’t they?
My bank was rubbing in the fact that they can add, delete, or change the
terms of our Service Agreement at whim, so even though we originally agreed to
“ABC”, they can alter that to “BCWXYZ,” or whatever else is likely to make them
the most money. At any time, mind you, which means that if they change the
agreement this morning and think of an even better swindle this afternoon, they
can change it again to that, and go off and award one another bonuses for
thinking for another way to skin the customer.
They may
communicate these changes “by either mail, email or a notice on our website,”
or peradventure they may communicate the changes by just opening the top window
of their corporate headquarters and shouting in my general direction. It’s really the same difference to me, because
my only recourse, if I happen to learn of the changes and don’t approve, is to
stop using their services, which they know I won’t do, because it’s so much
hassle to pull all my money out, close my account, and open up with another
institution that will be sending me similar messages within a few weeks.
So here’s
what I would like to know: who exactly
died and made them king? Why do these
organizations get to unilaterally decide when agreements are to be changed?
Here’s
a story a friend told me a few years ago.
A man received an unsolicited credit-card invitation from a bank. He didn’t care for some of the provisions in the
agreement, so he scanned it into his computer, set the interest rate at zero
percent, removed the limit on his credit, and eliminated the fees the bank
proposed charging him. Then he printed
this amended agreement, signed it, and sent it back to the bank. The bank responded by sending him a credit
card, which he started using according to the rules of the agreement he had
signed.
In
due course (brace yourself for a shock), the bank took the man to court because
he had violated their contract—the
one they had sent him. He responded by
pointing out that he had sent them a counter offer, and that they had signified
their agreement to it by awarding him a credit card. Of course, the only signed document the bank officials could produce was the one stipulating the customer’s terms. And here is the really shocking part of this
story: the court sided with the
individual, ruling that the bank was obligated to abide by the terms that it
had essentially agreed to by issuing the credit card. If they had been too careless to review what
they were agreeing to, well, that was their problem.
I
would like to report that this happened to the bank sending you or me
amendments to our agreements, but sadly this happened in Russia. But here’s the thing: doesn’t it buck you up a bit to consider that
it did actually happen somewhere? Doesn’t the notion that some bank somewhere
on the planet took it in the shorts just this one time bring a tiny smile to
your face and go some small way toward restoring your faith in the idea of a
just universe? Yeah, me too.
So
here’s what I am wondering. Why can’t I
send a message to my bank (or you to yours), saying something like the
following (Subject line: I’m updating
our Banking Service Agreement)
In
exchange for my maintaining an account or accounts with [bank’s name], and
allowing it the use of my assets, [bank] agrees to assign to me one (1) share
of its common stock every time I log onto its website or utilize one of its
ATMs. Continuing to allow me access to
any of my accounts after receiving notice of this change means that [bank]
agrees to this updated Service Agreement.
Now
why doesn’t the world work in this sensible way? If banks (and other entities which we must
interact with) are allowed to unilaterally abrogate and alter agreements they
have signed with us, why can’t we do the same?
While I’m waiting for an answer to these questions, I’m going to try to
find that fellow who edited his credit-card contract. I’d like to buy him a beer.
