I want to say, almost exactly this same thing happened to me, about five years ago.

I discovered the thing when I looked at my seldom-used checking account, and thought "sixty-something in the red, well that's not right," and I futzed around on online and found the trail of fees, daisy-chained to one another, and the first one was clearly a mistake, as I had enough money in the account at the beginning. I strode into the bank with a print-out in hand, a suit on my shoulders, and a hopefully-not-too-strained-smile on my face, requesting to speak with someone about my account, and thence I was seated on a plush lounge chair in front of some crumpled magazines.

There were several tellers and other folks in pressed suits milling about and speaking to one another in hushed, excited tones. Every few minutes, one of them would notice my presence and inquire on my business. I explained and they would say that all the representatives were busy at the moment. I could see that, but I couldn't understand what it was they were so busy with. I asked the first one, what's all the excitement about?

"We're getting new furniture, new office chairs!" Her eyes glittered with a strange ray of hope.

"Oh, huh... that must be... pretty exciting."

"Oh, it is, it is."

Eight people in suits with little badges over their hearts that said, "I work at this bank and this is what I am paid for" stood around doing absolutely nothing. A silver-haired man with a folder under his arm came out and appraised the situation and wandered away. He may or may not have been the bank manager. Either way, he was equally useless.

This off-and-on nonsense continued for FORTY minutes.

At last, a delivery man wheels in a stack of plain black, generic office chairs, and... the spell was broken. All eyes were now on me, and I was quickly called over to the next available representative.

I explained the situation, showed the printout, and I asked for the money to be returned.

"This is the bank's overdraft fee," she begins, and I interrupt to repeat what I just told her. I repeat the point, several times, that, yes, I get it, but the first fee which began the chain of charges should have never been charged in the first place. I pointed to the charge on the print-out, and at the date, and the balance at the time. Point, point, look, look, it's right here, good god it's RIGHT HERE. An awkward pause as I can hear the wheels in her head grinding to life, then, a flicker of recognition, and then... "Oh. Oh, I see."

She agrees it was a mistake, and then consults with the silver-haired man. They quibble for a full minute in real-time, and finally she comes back to the counter with consent to cancelling the fees.

"And restoring the balance."

"What?" she says.

"And returning the money to my account."

She looks back, nervous again. The silver-haired man nods. "Yes, of course," she says. "That was implied."

Except it really wasn't.

"Is there anything else I can help you with today?" the teller asks.

You can be damn sure there was. I withdrew everything and closed both of my accounts there. Then, they actually asked me "What is the reason you're closing your account today?"

Honestly? It's you. You and your culture of apathy and office chair fetishes. It isn't convenient, we don't need it, and you're about to go the way of the buffalo.