Santander's Disappearing Act: Now You See a Branch, Now You Don’t!

"Santander's Disappearing Act: Now You See a Branch, Now You Don’t!"

Well, folks, gather round and clutch your cheque books (if you can still find them), because Santander has just pulled off the greatest vanishing trick since David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear. That’s right — 95 branches are packing up faster than a dodgy kebab stand before an inspection, leaving behind only tumbleweeds, broken dreams, and a doddery old ATM blinking in the breeze.

Apparently, 750 jobs are at risk too — or as corporate likes to call it, “optimising human assets in line with evolving service frameworks.” Translation: good luck out there, Janet from Basingstoke. But don’t worry, they’re offering “community banker” roles, which sounds like something you’d get with your Nectar card points.

Santander's spin is that this is “a response to customer behaviour” — because, as everyone knows, nothing says customer service like slamming the doors shut and telling people to go play with an app.

They’ve proudly announced the creation of “counter-free branches,” which is just a fancy way of saying: We’ll still have buildings, but don’t expect to actually do any banking there. Instead, they’ll be staffed by “guidance advisors,” who, presumably, will offer tissues and vague reassurances while Google does all the real work.

And let’s not forget the “Work Cafes.” Yes, they’ve reinvented the coffee shop with Wi-Fi and decided it counts as a financial institution. Who needs a teller when you can get a latte with your overdraft?

So here we are, in a country where high streets are starting to resemble the set of The Walking Dead, and banking has become an extreme sport for the digitally savvy. Need to speak to someone about your mortgage? Better grab a tent, book a Teams appointment, or whisper it to your phone and hope Siri gets bored enough to connect you.

Santander, thank you for reminding us all that in the age of “digital transformation,” human connection is just another relic — like pens on chains and free calendars.

Coming soon to a high street near you: absolutely nothing.