A Copy Of The Permission Slip: Fill & Download for Free

Ooooh, pick me, pick me!I've had an account with Bank of America since 1973. Not a big account, just a personal checking account.In 2012, I needed to cash in some of my US Savings bonds so I could pay for repairs to my late father's condo so we could sell it to settle the estate.The bonds were in "I" bonds in $100 denomination. (That means the bonds are each worth the $100 face value, plus accrued interest.). I needed to cash in at least $5,000 worth to deposit in my checking account, so I had a stack of 50 bonds that I needed to cash in.I knew this would take some time, so I went into the bank on a Wednesday at around 2:00 PM, which was not a time when they were busy.When I got up to the teller window, I explained what I wanted to do. The teller called the manager, who told me that the maximum number of bonds they could process while I waited was 12. I politely pointed out that they weren't busy, and politely asked if another bank officer could sit with me and process all the bonds, since I needed the money in the account ASAP. The manager held firm: the best he could do was process 12. But if I signed the rest and left them at the bank, they would deposit them in my account within the next "5 working days."Cashing in the first 12 would get me the down payment money to the contractors, and if the rest was deposited within 5 working days, that would work. So I said okay.While the teller took the first 12 bonds and calculated the value with interest accrued, I filled out a deposit sheet with the serial number and denomination of the remaining bonds. At my insistence, the bank manager made a copy of this sheet.When the 12 bonds that the B of A teller processed were credited to my account, I left the bank, copy of the deposit slip in my hand.For the next week (5 working days plus an intervening weekend), I checked my account to see if the bonds were credited to my account. After 6 working days, 8 calendar days, with the bonds not credited to my account, I took my copy of the deposit slip and marched into the bank.I asked to see the manager. Had to wait while he finished with another customer. When he came over to talk to me, I held out the deposit slip and asked him why my account had not been credited yet.This was the same manager I'd dealt with when I brought the bonds into the bank. He didn't remember the transaction. Fair enough; several days had elapsed. He took my copy of the deposit slip and went behind the teller counter, I saw him talk to a couple of people, and it was obvious from the body language that nobody had a clue where my bonds were.He came back to me and said that if I left my copy of the deposit slip with him, he would get back to me in TEN WORKING DAYS.Not, the money would be credited to my account in ten working days. In ten working days he would tell me what we could do about my missing bonds!First thing I told him was he couldn't have my copy of the deposit slip. He could make a copy of it, but I wasn't leaving without my copy of the deposit slip. This seemed to irritate him, like I was asking for something unreasonable! He had an assistant make a copy of the deposit slip, gave me back my copy, and clearly seemed to feel he had done everything I could reasonably expect. Thank you ma'am, you'll be hearing from us. TEN WORKING DAYS.I had contractors who were waiting to be paid. The sum the bonds represented was around $5,000 in matured value, $3,600 in face value. That may not be a lot of money to some people, but for me it was all the money I could scrape together without having to borrow money to pay the contractors.I'll admit my voice was raised when I told the bank manager that waiting ten days longer was totally unacceptable, he had himself promised at the time of the deposit that my account would be credited in 5 working days, and it hadn't been. But I wasn't shouting and my language was professional. I told him that if he couldn't help me himself, he needed to immediately elevate the matter to someone who could help me, and I wouldn't leave until he did that.I'm 5 foot 5, I was 55 years old at the time and looked it, sorry to say, and had knee problems that required me to walk with a cane. I was a small, not very fit-looking, little old lady. I cannot perceive any way that anything I said was in any way threatening, or that anything I wanted him to do was unreasonable.So when he called the security guard over, told the guard to escort me out, and told me very loudly and unmistakeably that if I returned to the bank before he called me to tell me he was ready to speak with me again, he'd have me arrested, I was completely taken aback.The guard was apologetic but firm: I had to leave. He politely accompanied me to the door and saw me out.Long story short: not being a complete idiot, I spent a lot of time over the next two days on the phone with people in the B of A management chain, their customer service people, and filling out complaints on-line with every bank regulatory body I could access on the internet. I even went to the local Sheriff's office and filled out a criminal complaint, because I wanted to be darn sure that if my bonds were never recovered and my account wasn't credited, I'd have some recourse.And I told everyone I dealt with in this matter that the reason I was calling them was because I could not go back into the bank to try to resolve the matter, since the manager had threatened me with arrest if I returned without his permission.I know I got the attention of a lot of people high up in the B of A food chain, but what surprised me was that nobody suggested the solution to the problem until I brought it up to them myself.They had a copy of the deposit slip with the serial numbers of the bonds. The bonds were in their possession somewhere, even if they didn't know where. If they would just credit my account for the face value of the bonds, that would allow me to pay my contractors. When they located the bonds, they could credit my account with the additional amount of value from the interest on the bonds.That's what they ended up doing. It took them 12 working days after I got thrown out of the bank to locate the bonds, which had been sent in error to a Federal processing center; when they found the bonds, they called me to come into the bank.The manager who had kicked me out politely explained what had gone wrong, while HIS boss, and his boss's boss, stood listening. And then he apologized for his failure to meet "acceptable standards of customer service."I heard some time later that he left B of A right after that meeting.

I’ve got a couple little ones.Freshman year of high school, I was taking a creative writing class. The teacher was unbelievably quirky and probably the best teacher I’ve ever had. He was handing out permission slips for a field trip this day, and ran out of copies before he got to me. He asked for my seventh period and promised to bring the permission slip before the end of the day.It’s worth noting that that day was F. Scott Fitzgerald’s birthday. To celebrate, my CW teacher—Mr. S—was dressed as Gatsby, in the pink suit.He walked into my English class seventh period, and the entire class stopped to stare. Teachers walking in aren’t uncommon but usually they aren’t wearing pink suits, and we were taking a test so they wanted an excuse to not take the test anyway.So Mr. S finds me, I wave vaguely at my English teacher like “yeah I’m just getting papers,” but while walking across the room, Mr. S starts talking.And see, when I had him earlier that day for CW, he started out the class by quoting passages from The Great Gatsby. Walking across my English class—most of whom had no idea who he was—he repeated the passages in a weird not-quite-of-any-nationality accent. Even my English teacher was horribly confused and I didn’t know whether or not I should laugh or hide.Mr. S actually stopped by the back of the room to finish his soliloquy. He finally handed me my permission slip, but I couldn’t even says thanks, I was laughing so hard. He turned back to the rest of the class, apologized to the English teacher, and asked if anyone had read The Great Gatsby.He was a great teacher.

We travel to the Caribbean with my Grandson.. We have signed several copies of the permission slip, which includes medical care permissions from his parents. He also, of course, has his passport. Sometimes Immigration wants to keep a copy, sometimes they look at it, sometimes they don’t care. Next year, he visits Belize with a school group, and they will have similar paperwork.