Banking on You

It's nice to have things you can rely on in life. A partner, friends, a working car. Just that feeling of getting up in the morning and trusting that life will be okay. Increasingly, a lot of what we rely on is digital. At the forefront of that, in my case, is my phone. I haven't upgraded my phone much to the chagrin of Apple's Accounts department since the iPhone 13. My phone has been reliable, effective, and a good friend. Last Saturday, while flying up to Glasgow, I decided to invest in the new iPhone 16 Pro Max. They've proved almost impossible to order from an Apple store, and the tech store at Heathrow Terminal 5 had one left with just the memory I required and in the colour I wanted. Titanium black. How proud was I? Of course, being the small boy who could never wait to open his Christmas presents, I tried to set up my phone on arrival in Glasgow in my hotel room. Hooking up both old and new phones to the hotel Wi-Fi. All went well. I never read instructions for anything, preferring to fiddle with something new, sometimes to the detriment of its effectiveness. Apple's reluctance to give any instruction as to how their products work suits me just fine. Until, of course, I hit a problem. Most apps transfer straight across to the new phone. It's great. Barclaycard and Lloyds think differently. My passwords haven't been transferred. My banking number hasn't been transferred. OK, I get it. It's security. They are looking after my money, although in the case of Barclaycard, I'm looking after some of theirs, and they want me to be secure. Except that when I try to install the Barclaycard app and answer my security questions, entering the correct number, the correct address, the correct password, the correct security name of my first dog (which, for those of you who can't live life without knowing it was Dinky -, yeah, I know. Imagine how stupid I felt calling that name out loud on the village green.) And yet, the app will not let me access Barclaycard services. Eventually, on returning home, I have long phone calls with the Barclaycard helpline after long waits on the telephone. And now, I'm at the stage where I can access my account through my computer, but I have to be sent a pin-sentry machine to access my account on my phone. So Barclaycard aren’t exactly in favour. However, they can take a back seat because welcome to the picture, Lloyds Bank. Lloyds Bank makes Barclaycard look like a company who are falling over themselves to help you. So, no passwords or access numbers show in my Lloyds app, and I wait a week until I get home to enter the numbers from my computer into the banking apps. It doesn't grant me access. It tells me I have to reset. I reset everything, and it gives me a verification number. It tells me to call Lloyds Bank to give them the verification number. I hang on for 27 minutes, and eventually, somebody asks me a lot of questions that I've just answered online and then asks me for the verification number. They then ask me two questions. What size shoe did I wear at the age of nine? And what is my favourite episode of 'Camberwick Green'? Actually, those weren't the questions they asked, but the ones they did were equally stupid. Now, at some point, I've obviously misremembered my favourite episode of 'Camberwick Green' because after that, the assistant, trained at the General Pinochet School of Charm, tells me that I haven't passed security and they will send out a verification number in the post. I protest. I won't have access to my bank accounts. I can't transfer money. I can't pay bills. She's having none of it. That's the only option. So, now, both my business and my personal accounts are locked. Until a letter arrives from Lloyds, and judging by the current state of the Royal Mail, that makes me very nervous, I can't access either account. This is my money that they hold. I have proved myself with a driving licence, a passport, and many other documents, but they won't let me access it. Relying on our phones to this extent is unwise. The National Health Service now means that we must log online or use our phone app to get an e-consult appointment with a doctor. Travel bookings are better made online. If you want to arrive late on a British Airways flight or a Avanti West Coast train, you'll have booked it online. Yet some people can't afford all the equipment needed to do that. I recently worked for a large high street tech retailer. (There aren't many, so it's not difficult to guess which one). They told me about their wonderful scheme for helping people in digital poverty, families who can't afford a laptop or smartphones for all their children. But what about people who want to avoid using the technology? The battle over cash still rages. Recently, an actor posted on X that he'd walked into Charles Tyrwhitt to buy a shirt with cash on his way to an audition, but they refused to sell him as they didn't take cash. It's frightening. All the tech helps us enormously. I'm not frightened of AI. If used correctly, it can be a great help to many people. But I fear how we will use it. You only have to look at how social media has developed into a weapon to know that AI will not be used for the benefit of all. And the fact that with a blackout or at the flick of somebody's switch, I can be left virtually penniless for a week is appalling. I doubt if Lloyd's bank will be searching the internet to read this. But perhaps they should. They should work out what they can do to ensure that the customer is always put first. Any customer, with or without a smartphone, with or without a computer - a customer is somebody who has put their money into Lloyd's bank and they should always be able to access it. At this moment in time, I'm hastily looking for a tin can to put under the bed.