I finally did it. I've defected from the faceless, arrogant, blind-as-a-bat monster-giant (Royal Bank) in favour of Scotiabank - chosen initially because there's a lovely, old branch in the village near where we live.

It's amazing. I walk in and the tellers all say hello, and ask how my son is doing like they really mean it. They all know our names. My account manager and financial consultant comes out of his office to shake my hand and chat, every time. Even the tellers call me at home, to let me know that they took the liberty of fast-tracking an American-funds cheque (usually held for three weeks) that I deposited the day before.

Is it Scotiabank? Or is it small-town living? My guess is 30-70. But I like the Scotia brand, how they seem to talk to me as an equal and not from an elevated stature. I was tired of the arrogance and assumptions of the Royal Bank, who after more than twenty years had no idea (and no care) of who I was or what I might need. All they ever did was raise my credit card and credit line limits without telling me, time and time again, after me requesting that they don't, time and time again. And send me enough irrelevant junk mail to keep the home fires burning for a freaking century.

It's just so refreshing to have a bank that knows who I am, and that cares about me and my life, and that steps in and offers to help make it easier in ways I hadn't even considered. It's a great feeling, the sense that someone who knows what they're doing is looking out for you financially.

Hats of to Scotiabank - at the very least, for hiring such gosh-darned nice people.