I'm in two minds today as to what to write about. Something funny, namely the toilet habits of an ageing male, or a rant about my bank. So I think I'll choose the rant...
Before I came over to this fair isle, I popped into my bank and asked someone there "Will I be able to use this card in Ireland, because it doesn't work in many cashpoints in this country?"
"Yes of course," they said. "You can always get cashback in a supermarket as well."
No. No I can't.
At Bristol Airport last Wednesday I popped to the Bureau de Change and asked about fees, and considering I didn't have much money then I decided it would be better waiting until I got here.
No. No it wasn't.
We tried a few banks, a few cashpoints (named after the Americanism "ATM". What's a Teller, and why's he automatic?), to no avail. Then, on Friday I was in Tesco and the woman on the checkout was from Reading (Poor cow), and I said about cashback. I could pay for the shopping, I already knew that. She said it shouldn't be a problem.
Yes. Yes it was.
No money. So I phoned up my bank, angling for a fight. "Tough. All you can do is transfer money into someone's account over there," they said. "It'll take 3-5 working days." This means I'll be potless until after Christmas. Will I be in the branch first thing on the Monday after we get home, screaming and shouting?
Yes. Yes I will.
Bankers... Rhyming slang for more than one reason...
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