Versión en español: Leer este post en español →

Some corporate decisions remind you that an expensive suit and a manager’s salary don’t prevent anyone from doing something incredibly stupid.

This is one of those stories.

It was 2018 when I saw the news: Banco KEB Hana Mexico was coming to the country. One of the largest banks in South Korea, expanding operations. I did what any person with basic business instinct does: I went and bought the domains. kebhana.mx and kebhana.com.mx. A few minutes, a few pesos. A ridiculously small investment for what it represented.

Then I tried to contact the bank. Several times. Patiently. The message was simple: “hey, I have your domains, let’s work this out.”

My ask wasn’t even the 30,000 pesos I was quoting. My real dream was a free lifetime debit account — one of those basic accounts any bank offers the general public — but with one of those cards that makes you look like a millionaire.

I was young. All I needed was a single black card with the bank’s logo and two silver rings to show off at the club where I spent my weekly paycheck. Pure aesthetics.

Though honestly, 10,000 pesos cash and nothing else would have made me just as happy. About 500 dollars at the exchange rate back then. Probably what a Kebhana executive spends on mineral water at a hotel during a business trip.

But Kebhana chose to make me wait. And wait. And wait.

I applied some pressure: I created an email account with the domain and published it on social media. I got reported everywhere. My mistake, I’ll own that. But what came next is where the bank decided to destroy itself.

They put me in touch with a lawyer.

Not just any lawyer. One of those with a Hollywood-style website. Black and white headshot. Surely an “impressive” résumé. All to tell me he was going to sue me and destroy me if I didn’t hand over the domains. He even took the time to remind me that every call I had made to the bank was recorded and would serve as evidence before a judge.

Nice touch.

For free. He wanted me to hand them over for free.

My response was immediate: the domains went to the open market. No fixed price. First come, first served. They’re no longer mine, for the record. But they’re not Kebhana’s either.

To this day, Banco KEB Hana Mexico operates at bancokebhana.com. One of the largest banks in South Korea, with a presence in 24 countries, came to Mexico and got stuck with a domain that sounds like an unlicensed lender. bancokebhana.com. That’s it. That’s what they chose.

To be clear: KEB Hana is a regulated, legitimate bank with decades of history in South Korea. The problem isn’t what they are — it’s what they chose to look like. And that’s on them, not me.

Anyone searching for kebhana.mx ends up God knows where. For a bank — whose only real product is trust — that’s not a technical detail. It’s looking like a pirate operation every single day, around the clock, for free and forever.

I don’t know how much they paid the Hollywood lawyer. But I know that profile doesn’t come cheap.

And I know I would have walked away happy with 10,000 pesos. Ten thousand pesos that was my exact monthly salary back then.

The salary of someone who hadn’t finished high school, who with basic instinct saw what a bank full of degree-holding, suit-wearing executives couldn’t.

But sure. The ones in suits are the smart ones.

One final detail. Mexico’s consumer protection agency Condusef gave them 9.95 out of 10 for customer service. The best bank in Mexico for that metric. Number one. Above BBVA, Banamex, everyone.

Of course they have great customer service. With the ten clients they must have, anyone can provide great service. Who’s going to trust their money to a bank that couldn’t even secure its own domain?

They threatened me with a Hollywood lawyer over a domain they never got.

Brilliant, gentlemen. Truly brilliant.

Did I try to contact Banco KEB Hana Mexico to ask permission before publishing this? Of course. I just couldn’t find their email — but something told me I might find it at kebhana.mx.

…Of course.

You’ll understand. Though it seems the people working at Kebhana don’t.