Sign of the Times
My bank recently asked me to sign a new agreement for online banking. The contract was not between the bank and myself, per se, but between me and the company that gives customers online access to their accounts. As expected, the agreement said the company could not guarantee that all figures would be accurate up to the minute, and access to my account information might sometimes be delayed—because stuff happens in cyberspace.
I can live with that.
But the next paragraph said that because the internet is a dangerous place, there can be no guarantee that my account information will be safe. That in signing this document I am declaring I understand that stuff happens and accept any and all risks. In other words, if some hacker gets all my money because somebody at their company screwed up, I will accept responsibility and not sue them.
Well, I had trouble with that. I couldn’t click “Agree” on my computer screen.
I printed the agreement and took it to my attorney. He confirmed that I was reading it correctly but also suggested that my available recourse would depend on precisely what went wrong that ultimately put my money in danger. If it was something the bank, itself, did, I had some protection. But, indeed, if this company that provides the digital services was the cause of my misfortune, I’d be screwed.
I then carried the agreement—with pertinent passages highlighted—to the bank. A bank officer confirmed what the attorney said. Yup—there’s a risk that stuff will happen, and your money will disappear.
Hmmmm.
Online banking nets me a little more interest than paper statements. It’s handy to be able to move money from one account to another at will. But is it worth the risk?
The risk is small.
But shouldn’t the bank—and their subcontractors—guarantee the safety of my money?
Hmmmm.
We’re frequently asked to just click “Agree” after scrolling through several pages of online legalese. I suspect most people don’t read the agreement thoroughly. And rarely protest. This inaction gives invisible contract brokers all the power.
It’s nothing new. When purchasing cars and homes I had to sign lengthy paper contracts. If I took the time to read the documents, the salespeople generally got antsy and tried to orally summarize the content. That made the reading take longer.
The expectation that people will sign anything is increasing as we become more reliant on doing business digitally. I’ve been asked by medical and municipal offices to sign a tiny digital screen that doesn’t even have access to the document I’m theoretically signing—just a signature line. When I object to signing without reading the document, I get the distinct feeling I’m regarded as persnickety.
Is it persnickety to want to know how you might legally be held accountable? Or what losses you might incur?
On the other hand, if we must read every word of every document that crosses our path in our daily dealings, we’d never get anything done. I think businesses count on this. If we aren’t paying attention, they can create contracts that let them entirely off the hook.
Maybe if everybody took time to read documents thoroughly, and made all the clerks and salespeople antsy, eventually contracts would get shorter and more clear—to save time.
And maybe if we all refused to sign what didn’t sound safe, big business would not be so quick to build in loopholes.
Read what you sign. Object when necessary.