We had to switch banks when we came up to PA because our former institution doesn’t have much of a presence in our new area. Switching banks is such a headache, isn’t it? I didn’t really care where we switched to because, I don’t know, a bank is a bank and I’m sure I’d get more or less the same experience wherever.
Like, when we went into PNC to open our new accounts, the chick first asked us, “So what qualities did you appreciate at your old institution that you’d like to see continued in your new relationship?” LOL wut? What is this? The GMAT? Jeopardy? Some kind of application process to be, like, AN ASTRONAUT? She might as well have asked me the cosine of pi. I don’t know, lady. I liked the quality where I had this little red card that said “Visa” and when I handed it to the nice lady at Starbucks they gave me a mocha in return. That is seriously the extent of my relationship with banks.
I take all that back now. Switching to PNC was the greatest move of my life. Let me tell you why. Because today I discovered PNC’s “Punch the Pig” tool. Stay with me now. You need to know about this.
Punch the Pig was made for people like me. AKA impressionable airhead girls who are easily swayed by cuteness. (Me.) You guys know the infomercial for the Baby Bullet? The baby food version of the Magic Bullet blender thing? The infomercial wastes all this time blabbing about all its nifty features. It’s cost effective. Labor saving. You can make organic stuff. Freezer safe. Order in the next 10 minutes and they’ll throw in the baby food steamer for free. Whatever. Snooze.
BUT WAIT OMFG did you see there are adorable little happy faces all over everything?!?!
YES HELLO 1-800-BABY-BULLET? THIS IS SARAH I’LL TAKE NINETY PLEASE.
So, yea, somewhere along the line, marketing experts got together and determined girls like me– for reasons unbeknownst– respond passionately to cute gimmicks. Back to Punch the Pig. I discovered today that on PNC’s online banking portal, there resides a small pig icon. When you click (punch) the pig, it transfers $1 from your checking to savings. (Or whatever amount you tell it to).
See it? My pig is dressed in an argyle sweater. It makes me wiggle my fists and squee when I see it. There are like 30 different choices for your little pig’s outfit. THEN you get to choose what sound it makes when you punch it. I went with the classic “oink” option here. Due to its excessive adorableness, I’ve already punched it like 5 times, so it’s accomplishing its goal of tricking an irresponsible dolt like me into using this mythical “savings account” entity.
The only major drawback is that it makes you jump through a hoop to confirm the transfer.
I can’t have this kind of road block. I need the impulsiveness of the pig punch. Now it’s making me think. Transfer $1.00? An entire dollar? One hundred cents? Well now that I am forced to think about it… $1.00 could get me, like, 46 Swedish Fish from the bulk aisle at Wegman’s. Or I could vacuum my car at the gas station. Or I could try to win a plush toy from the crane machine at Red Robin. Maybe even TWICE with a whole dollar. This dollar could go a long way. I’M NOT SURE I’M COMFORTABLE WITH THIS TRANSACTION.
I then utilized another sweet PNC feature and instant messaged a customer service representative to inquire about this. Here is an excerpt from that transcript:
sarah becker: But when I punch it, there is a pop up that prompts me to confirm the transfer
sarah becker: is there a way to disable that?
sarah becker: it’s kind of a deterrent
[name redacted]: Good evening Sarah! I would be happy to assist you with that today
[name redacted]: Currently that pop up does not have an option to remove the transfer. This is just in case of an accidental punch to the pig.
I will never know why I laughed extensively at the “in case of an accidental punch to the pig” line. But I plan to find a way to work that expression into my everyday lexicon. Between that and getting to pick out an argyle sweater for my pig, my year has been made. This now concludes the time I wrote 698 words about a pig icon. A pig icon which will be responsible for any amount of wealth I may someday retire with. Thank you, pig.