There is a particular kind of genius at work in the way large organisations handle complaints. Not the inspiring, Nobel Prize-winning kind. No, this is the dark art of grinding down anyone who dares to raise their head above the parapet. Banks, local councils, insurance companies, even charities, all seem to have mastered this fine skill. Their secret weapon? Bureaucracy so dense it makes a rainforest look sparse.
Picture this. You spot an error on your bank statement. You call the bank, armed with your facts, ready to explain. The first person you speak to is perfectly polite and utterly powerless. They put you on hold, then transfer you to another department where you have to explain everything again. The new person apologises but insists they “can only deal with card services, not current accounts”. Back on hold. You go through security again. By the third transfer, your blood pressure could power a small city. Eventually, you give up because, frankly, life is too short. The bank wins.
Councils take this to Olympic levels. Their system thrives on forms so complex they seem to have been written by someone who once read a dictionary backwards. Submit the wrong version and your request is “invalid”. Miss a deadline you were never told about and you “must reapply”. Each rejection resets the clock, sapping your will to live, until you accept that pothole outside your house as a permanent feature in the landscape.
Insurance companies, of course, have turned hoop-jumping into an art form. Need to make a claim? First, prove that the accident happened. Then prove that you didn’t cause it through some obscure negligence clause hidden on page 47 of the terms. Provide receipts, photographs, witness statements, DNA samples, and perhaps your firstborn child. By the time they’re done asking for “just one more bit of evidence”, you’ve already replaced whatever was lost at your own expense. The company pockets the premium and moves on to the next unlucky soul.
Even charities, sadly, are not immune to this tactic. Many people approach them in moments of real crisis. They fill out forms, attend assessments, recount painful details of their lives to strangers, only to be told they “do not meet the criteria”. The criteria, incidentally, are about as clear as mud and conveniently flexible when it comes to cutting costs. Instead of helping, the process leaves people feeling exposed, humiliated and even more hopeless than before.
Why do they do this? The psychology is simple. They rely on attrition. Make the process long, confusing, and emotionally draining, and most people will give up. Those who persist are treated as anomalies, often labelled as “difficult” or “unreasonable”. It’s a strategy designed to save money at the expense of human dignity. The fewer claims they pay, the fewer services they deliver, the better the bottom line looks.
The impact is devastating. People caught in these cycles often feel powerless. Their trust in institutions erodes. Stress builds up, relationships strain, sleep suffers. For some, the relentless grind contributes to depression and anxiety. There are cases where this has tipped people into despair so deep that suicide feels like the only way to escape. That is not dramatic exaggeration; it’s the grim reality that sits behind some of these statistics.
So what can be done? On a personal level, know that persistence is your friend. Keep records of every call, every email, every letter. Be polite but firm. Use complaints procedures and escalate where necessary. Don’t be afraid to involve an ombudsman or take to social media, where public exposure has a magical way of cutting through red tape.
On a wider level, raising awareness is crucial. Talk about these experiences. Write to your MP. Share stories with local media. The more light we shine on these practices, the harder it is for organisations to hide behind their walls of process. Support watchdogs, advocacy groups, and anyone willing to call out unfair treatment.
Finally, if you work within one of these institutions, remember that real people are on the other end of the line. The policy might say “no”, but compassion is not a cost-cutting measure. It’s free, and it changes lives. But we know that for some of you, the year end bonus can depend on how many claims you have allowed to slip away…
We cannot dismantle the entire system overnight, but we can chip away at it. One complaint at a time, one story at a time, we can make it harder for the grind to go unchallenged. And maybe, just maybe, the next person who dares to raise their head won’t have it so brutally knocked down.
Photo by Jay Skyler
