HSBC have been an absolute NIGHTMARE for my business. I'd urge anyone in the UK to avoid them for anything. Below is the rant I sent to their complaints department after I had decided to ditch them after one foul-up too many.

tl;dr: It took me weeks to register; they refused to expedite new codes to me after a cockup at their end; then when they eventually allowed me to use the service they declined EngineYard and Google apps payments every single month for over a year for "fraud prevention reasons".

In the process of switching… not sure who to yet.

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Over a year ago I began the process of opening a business bank account with HSBC over the telephone. I'd already completed incorporation of my business and had a provisional acceptance from HSBC via their online application system. Someone was to phone me to ask some cursory questions. Through this conversation it emerged that one of the directors in the business had somehow mistaken his gender when filling out his paperwork, and there was a pause while we waited for Companies House to update their records.

A few days passed, and with the records amended, I ventured into the Fulham Broadway branch of HSBC to complete this process. I explained to the gentleman hovering menacingly near the doors what I needed to do.

"I see. Come with me to The Business Centre," he said solemnly, visibly annoyed that I was wearing yesterday's jeans and no socks.

He deposited me in a chair and assured me that someone would be over to see me shortly. Instantly, another gentleman arrived and inquired as to what I needed. I explained my situation again. Ah, yes, of course. I needed to see a Business Advisor. Did I have an appointment? No, but the office was empty. Ah, yes. Right this way.

The second gentleman led me to a third representative of HSBC's towering capacity for inefficiency. A portly lady squeezed into a too-tight uniform, tucked inside a glass livestock enclosure; she motioned wordlessly to a chair. I ventured that I had a reference number. She pecked away with her exquisite fingernails on the tiny plastic keyboard in front of her and then abruptly stood, and stalked to a printer, rolling and heaving her monstrous body against a uniform visibly weakening at the seams.

"What," she said, looking at her screen and then, for the first time, at me, "did you hope to do today?"

I explained, for the third time, that I needed to conclude the opening of my business account–a process I'd started over the telephone and had been assured I could pick up in a real life, physical, open-now-on-Sundays-thanks-to-Nat-West retail bank. She nodded.

"So all we need really is to physically ID the other directors and we're done."

Nobody had mentioned of this, and one of them was in France.

"Sorry, there's nothing we can do until then."

Could I just drag them into another branch and have them sign something? I could. Splendid.

Thus resolved, Director #1 and I went to the London Bridge branch of HSBC a few days later. He was clutching a disparate range of proofs of his identity, from bank statements to utility bills.

We explained to the 'Customer Host' what we needed to do. He ushered us up some stairs to The Business Centre, a grandiose term for two offices, a deserted reception area and a jolly looking woman stationed in a narrow glass booth.

After being left alone for several minutes, with no more obvious option, I approached her and, for the second time that day and the fifth overall, explained what Josh and I needed to accomplish. She motioned to the first office, which had an open door. "My colleague will be able to help you with that."

We went into the office. The man behind the desk looked up from the screen, creating the illusion of progress.

"Can I help yeh?" He asked, through the indolent, Americanised drawl of an east London schoolboy.

Once more I explained. Keep count.

"Yeahyeah, if you just take a seat, someone else will help you widdat."

Widdat, we sat and chatted about central American politics for a few minutes.

Another man, with a hole where it seemed obvious an earring usually was, walked past us into the office with Widdat in it. He gesticulated in our direction and then cast a wary glance over his shoulder at us.

He approached us and, as you might have expected, asked us what it was we were there to do, in a mumbling approximation of Widdat's voice which might have seemed like a parody if the intellectual bar set by HSBC's staff so far hadn't been so terribly, terribly low.

He explained, in a roundabout way, that he had to do some work and had an appointment coming in ten minutes, but that a lady would be along to see us very soon indeed, and that if she wasn't, he'd take care of us.

We resumed our discussion for what seemed like a very long time–and not because of Josh's constant oversimplification of the complexities of US paternalism. Eventually, Widdat #2 came back out and invited us into his office, muttering about the receptionist not being at her desk.

Instead of asking what we wanted to do, he began to faff about with his computer. I trotted out the most succinct version of my mission to date.

"I started the process of opening a business account with you. I was told I needed to bring in ID for the directors so you could verify them. I have one of them with me, with his ID."

"Right yeh but there's loads of paperwork to do to conclude and everything, it's maybe 25, 30 minutes and I have appointments and that."

We didn't need to do the paperwork. Could he just scan or photocopy the ID and say that he had seen it?

"I can take the ID from you but I can't give it back to you. We have to keep it. Sorry. You can either go into another branch and try to get it done or come back here and see me."

There is a box on the form for HSBC's Business Banking application which asks you how much you intend to deposit into the account. I assume Widdat #2 hadn't seen it, because I wouldn't ordinarily expect to fight someone to give them or their business several tens of thousands of pounds.

I lost interest. I told him it was ludicrous. He didn't disagree. We left. As a last chance I dropped into their deserted Clerkenwell branch and spoke to a business advisor who told me the previous HSBC employees I'd dealt with were all idiots and that it was very simple. We had the account opened in minutes.

Internet banking is very important to me because A) it's 2012, and I don't see a very good reason for highstreet banks to exist and B) I quite like the internet. So we registered for internet banking (which you have to do separately: is there really anyone who doesn't have or use the internet nowadays?). There are three parts of the verification system for this. HSBC posted me a 25-digit activation code, a cryptographic dongle thing, and another shorter code.

Ignoring the fact that a 25-digit activation code = 25! possibilities, which means HSBC have leave to create, I don't know, a BAJILLION online bank accounts, it's a fucking usability nightmare. Typing this stupid code into a computer, it's absolute overkill.

Oh, and they sent me two. Neither of which worked. The second one canceled the first, apparently (although they arrived at the same time), so I had to wait for a third code to be sent out. Nobody can do anything over the phone. You have to wait for the codes to arrive by post. They can only send them to the business address, meaning that you have to be in the office to pick them up. I spoke to a manager on the phone and politely asked what they could do to speed up the process of getting the code to me, since it was their mistake. Nothing at all, as it happened. They couldn't give it out over the phone, they couldn't send it recorded delivery, they couldn't courier it to me. Thanks for making amends for your mistake!

So after entering this 25-digit code, and another code which was a mix of alphanumerics, and picking a unique username, and specifying a password, and using my secure key dongle to generate a unique entry code, I finally get access to online banking about five weeks after the process begins, and I can finally pay our providers who have been patiently waiting (because they understand our pain–they also bank with HSBC).