To clarify, I'm a happy customer. Wells Fargo handles day-to-day banking for me and my vast WOLF STREET media-mogul-empire corporation. The people are nice, and I have not yet noticed any fraudulent accounts in my name.

It doesn't bother me that every time I call one of the national numbers with a problem or question, I have to swat away their offers of "pre-approved" credit cards, lines of credit, or other high-margin products. Having run a car dealership earlier in my life, I appreciate the art of aggressive cross-selling. However, we never-ever did it over the phone! We waited till we saw the whites of their eyes.

Yet at the counter for safe deposit boxes, I was in for a surprise. The young man – a 30-year-old employee would have looked suspiciously over-age at that branch – checked the computer for my box number. There was a problem. He asked for my driver's license. He rummaged through a file cabinet, found the signature cards. He conferred with another kid. He came back, embarrassed. Turns out, the fact that I've been renting the box for a decade wasn't in their computer system. So no-go.