At Box of Good, we utilize two different banking institutions for all our bookkeeping needs. Last week, Emily tried to log into our US Bank account and was shown a notice that her account had been locked. Strange. Nothing changed, and we’d just used that account yesterday. So, she called customer service and, as you can imagine, getting a hold of someone at a firm the size of US Bank can take a while, and getting hold of someone who can diagnose and fix the problem is another matter entirely. She makes the call anyway and goes through the entire verification process with account numbers, two-factor codes, and other authentication methods, and then waits on hold for an hour and 15 minutes, getting transferred between 4 different agents. The result of that interaction? They couldn’t figure out why the account had been locked, and they also couldn’t unlock it. Their solution? We needed to go to a US Bank branch in-person and start the process all over again.
Emily arrived at the branch the next day and started the verification process again, which included the bank teller having to call the same customer service line that Emily was on the day before. After getting transferred a couple more times, they deduce that both the teller and the remote agent, also, are still not able unlock the account, nor figure out why it was locked in the first place. Around….and around… Eventually, the remote agent admitted that not only was it not required to visit the branch in-person to solve this, it also wasn’t even required to get customer service to help at all. The actual fix was to have Emily create a new login and it will automatically assign it to our account when it verifies her identity. What a fiasco. But that’s what we get for bigness. How many of us have lived this nightmare, trying to get help from any massive institution? They’re far away, complicated, out of context, unhelpful, disorganized. No problem-solving, just problem-punting.
Meanwhile, we have a branch for Coastal Bank nearby, within 2 minutes. I can walk in, go right to the counter because there’s never a line, and I don’t have to prove who I am in any way, shape, or form. I am greeted, by name, by the same two people each time. No 2-factor code required, no driver’s license or bank card or PIN number. My mere existence in their building proves who I am, and that is enough.
While you may be thinking this is an ad for Coastal and not US Bank, I assure you it is not; in fact, it is far more important than that! When any institution grows larger, there is an increasing need to present the idea of trust, rather than the actual thing called trust. This shows up in various ways, typically by creating logos, taglines, certifications, and other stand-ins for the void where actual trust lived when things were approachable, local, and visible. The larger the institution, the more that institution retains the benefits of efficiency and automation, while offloading the costs to the consumers: namely, the cost of proving who I am; the cost of sitting on hold; the cost of memorizing 9 different pieces of information. You see this everywhere once you notice the pattern. Pay attention to all the ways that large entities create abstractions for trust that are more efficient for them, and more costly for you. US Bank is too large to trust any one person, so it has layers and layers of verifications, PIN codes, scans of photo IDs, automated phone trees, AI chatbots, SMS codes; all as a stand-in for trust. Meanwhile, just by walking into Coastal Bank, I am trusted, welcomed, and served.
A simple example is the expiration dates printed on our foods. Manufacturers make thousands of products per hour on extruders and conveyor belts and slap an expiration date on it (which is mostly guesswork and estimations, apart from fresh dairy). Just pad the dates a bit for a “liability buffer”, and it’s set! But it’s your responsibility to check those in the store, and to keep track at home. It’s your responsibility to return to the store to ask for a refund if it’s expired. It’s your responsibility to have a receipt. Otherwise, sorry, out of luck. The expiration date is not the manufacturer’s way of helping you. Rather, the manufacturer is transferring responsibility of scale, distance, and time onto us, consumers of food made far away and long ago. A flawed system produced a faulty product for you, and to rectify it, you have to do several things perfectly, and forfeit the time involved to fix it, while they must do one thing only marginally OK. All the benefits go up the chain, and all the risk falls on you. It’s your responsibility. You should have gotten a receipt (and kept them in perpetuity!). You need to check the ingredient list. You need to research the brand, and its parent companies and suppliers. You need to squeeze the dog toy at the checkout lane at midnight and wait for the one employee on the other side of the store to walk over to scan your items. You need to learn their Self-Checkout system. You need to read the purposefully hidden fine print that the sale price they advertised is only valid if you bought 6 of them, and not just the 2 that you needed, but it’s too late cause you’re already at the checkout. You need to know that the BIG BOLD sale price only applies if you also sign up for their loyalty program.
For many decades, this same mentality has ravaged our food system, creating layers of fake trust in order to sell immeasurable amounts of fake food. But the answer to this situation is not to try and legislate the farms in Iowa be Grass-Fed, or the henhouses in Colorado to be Pasture-Raised, or the vegetables in Mexico be Organic. A simpler solution is to choose food that already is organic, grass-fed, pasture-raised, and non-GMO. Local food almost always satisfies these needs, without any of the overhead, costs, certifications, or stand-ins for trust, because the owner chose that and believes in it, and it is observable by you because it’s local.
You know what doesn’t come with an expiration date on it? A head of lettuce. An apple. Ginger. Anything from a Farmers Market. The eggs at the little stand on the side of the road by your house. The plate of cookies from your neighbor. The lemonade from the little kids on the corner in the summer.
Eat food that expires, organically.
