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The ‘finger in the dike’ is a metaphor for many elements of modern life.
We break something, go to the hospital and get patched up. Over the next
few months various bills dribble in from the hospital, the x-ray tech,
the lab people, the attending physician, the physical therapist, and a
bunch of other people we never heard of. From time to time there is confusion
over who owes what, and calls to the hospital produce a run-around of the
nature of ‘You have to talk to someone in that office since that isn’t
our department’. It dawns on the run-aroundee that there are a finite number
of people that handle the flood of medical work that has to be done now,
since it is an emergency. Someone will sort out the billing later. Eventually,
of course, later is now. An enormous amount of medical service has to be
recorded, described, coded, priced, printed out, and put in the mail. There
aren’t enough people willing to do this work, and out of those, a somewhat
smaller number actually know what they’re doing.
Similarly, if every perpetrator were arrested and prosecuted to the
full extent of the law, 80% of us would be in jail (the other 20% would
be guards). While the average juror may not see the bargaining that goes
on in the DA’s office, some of the compromises might make your skin crawl.
Add this to the dictum about seeing how sausages and laws are made.
The ‘flood’ of interest to computer system developers and users relates
to money. More particularly, credit cards. You sign a ticket after dinner,
which gets dumped into a hopper with about 200 million others for that
day, and this wends its way through hundreds of banks, millions of accounts,
and tens of thousands of clerks. Most of the time, the person signing the
card is you, and your available credit is sufficient. Most of the time,
the transaction completes properly, it is posted to the right merchant
account, and the vendor gets ‘plussed’ the same amount you get ‘minused’.
Most of the time. However, there is a dark side to this. If you run
a web site with a shopping cart and process credit card transactions over
the Internet, you soon become in awe of some of the impenetrable mysteries
of existence. One of them is how the same bank can have three different
numbers, each of which is progressively smaller as it moves toward your
checking account.
First there is the ‘clearing’ operation. If you run a card through the
transaction machine, this ends up at a clearinghouse where the amount gets
added up to the other transactions that went through your account the same
day. At the end of the day the sum of your transactions should be the amount
you get, minus a processing fee, returns, and chargebacks.
Then there is the ‘security’ department, whose job it is is to make
sure you are you. Security is interested in patterns. One thing they flag
is a newly issued credit card that starts wandering across the country,
particularly in the direction of Las Vegas. There are people that find
their card isn’t working any more when all they’re trying to do is gas
up in Joplin, Missouri. Security is also interested in ‘euphemisms’, such
as the purchase of ‘flowers’, at $33 a shot, three times in one night in
downtown Miami.
Security is also watching merchants, since there is a small probability
such operations are less than pure as the driven snow. There are outright
crooks, and then there are simply the ‘Thoreau’ merchants, those that live
a life of quiet desperation.
The latter typically have something on the public record, such as a
tax lien, summary judgement, or pending civil lawsuit. They may have an
excessive number of chargebacks from unhappy customers. It is the habit
of ‘security’ in this situation to cover their bets, meaning that in some
cases the money transacted in doesn’t make it out. In this situation Mom
and Pop have an obligation to deliver something to the customer, but they
can’t have the money to buy their supplies, meet the payroll, or pay the
rent. Invariably this triggers long desperate calls to the bank, where
there are three separate registers of funds: Clearing, Security, and Commercial
Accounts.
The first issue, of course, is getting beyond ‘voice mail hell’ to where
one can actually talk to a person. This person is, more than likely, overwhelmed.
First, if anyone is calling, they’re angry. Second, the person taking this
call has to get two other people within the bank to come to the phone;
one in Clearing and the other being the account representative from the
branch the merchant banks at. Third, they need to be able to play their
bank’s transaction system like a piano, tracing the path of the money from
entry in the merchant’s accounts to it’s final resting place. Transactions
in late on Monday may not get posted until Tuesday, so there are no end
of opportunities for funds that cleared X not to be in Y.
The consequential damage is significant. How many merchants are spending
one full workweek out of their year trying to find out what happened to
their money rather than designing new products, editing their catalog,
interviewing prospective employees, or firming up a lease for a new place?
While this workweek might only be 2% of their time, can we afford to lose
2% of our talent to distractions like this? The entire US economy may be
stuck on hold, literally and figuratively.
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