This entry is most ranting after the first paragraph so feel free to skip it and watch paint dry which is more interesting by far, but give a girl a blog and she’ll whinge! You have been warned.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have some time off over Christmas, what with being a student an all. Not that it’s been entirely relaxing – a note to all fellow hobblers out there, DO NOT lay laminate flooring unless you are willing to be a super-limper for the following week! Evidently kneeling on the floor and getting up and down while shifting across the room is not good for unhappy hips! To be fair I could have seen the hobbles coming had I been bothered to think about it, but as usual I launched myself into it with not a thought for my poor knackered joints. Anyway I’m back to the normal level of hobbles again now, so the order of the universe has been restored.
So why the Ahhhh and Grrrrrrr? This is representative of my last two days. Having extra time off from my man means I’ve had the last two days pretty much to myself. Yesterday – the Ahhhh day, was lovely. I got up when I wanted, pottered around, did useful stuff, my Auntie popped over, then it was off to kick boxing after taking down the Crimble decs (boo hiss – the room looks bare now, fairy lights should up be all year round). So yesterday was most pleasant.
Today on the other hand….. well I woke up before my other half -who had to work, then, as is the want of my frazzled brain, proceeded to think of all the millions of jobs I needed to do today, so I got up before 8 to escape the monotony of my inner conscience. Needless to say it followed me around all day – I’ve yet to find the off switch. A few jobs were sorted then I had a brief visit to town the main purpose of which was to close a bank account. 2 hours for parking was more than enough, or so I thought…
This is where the Grrrrrr comes in; I have wasted nearly one hour of my life sitting in the chuffing bank trying to close my account. I have plenty of things to do besides waiting for some doughnut to close my account. To be fair the staff were all pretty friendly, just not very quick about doing anything, and when you’ve been waiting for half an hour and at least 4 staff are milling around together chatting it makes you a little peeved (plus one was chewing gum the whole time he was chatting to a customer, how rude! – I realise pointing this out makes me sound like my mum, but she’s a fab lady so I’m good with that). Then some fella tries to jump in front of me in the queue, so I approach one of the staff, kindly pointing out to them that “I am slowly loosing the will to live, is anyone going to see me today?” At this point a stream of about 5 different customers have arrived, queued for about 10 seconds then been seen (apparently there are 2 queues and I happen to be in the slow one.. would help if they were visible queues rather than people milling about, then I could have adopted a supermarket style strategy to the situation – see Eddie Izzard ‘The Definite Article’ for further info!) These lucky few customers are by now skipping their merry way down the high street whilst I’m loosing my grip on reality staring at bloody Express cash machines! You see this particular bank has replaced the normal counter service with express machines. Now I’m all for express machines as an addition to a counter service, specially when you’re on your lunch break and tearing round like a looney to get everything done in half an hour. You head to the bank and in the time honoured fashion politely and quietly join the end of the counter queue; which is made up mostly of old ladies with a blue rinse, as well as the local ‘character’ who isn’t sure whether to talk to you or the voices in their head and some hoodie skiving school to cash his brothers income support in return for fags and a can of Hofmeister; you slowly snake your way round the queue resisiting the urge to shout at no one in particular “What is it with retired people, they have all day to visit the bank, ALL DAY… yet they wait til lunch time when the working world is travelling at warp speed to get some food down their necks and pay in the cheque from Aunt Maude before heading back to their desks to surreptiously study facebook and poke their friends?!!” … Any way express machines are very useful in this situation; you can sneak in amongst the the blue rinse brigade and be off in a flash, BUT they are not a replacement for humans or being able to pay exact change in over the counter just so you can zero your balance to close your account and hot foot it out of the hell hole that is apparently ‘The World’s local Bank’ or some crap like that. So I’m now 40 minutes into waiting and some bright spark of a staff member suddenly realises that I need to pay an exact amount in (which I told um when I first got in there), £5.94 to be precise, in order to close my account…. well then I get sent to the business account counter – where they actually have people, a whole two real people that speak and breath and you can pay money in, whooo hhooooo! However being a personal banking customer I wasn’t greeted entirely with glee by the business banking lady, though she was friendly and effecient enough. So as the aforementioned bright spark realises the exact change issue my name finally gets called to sit with the Ice Maiden who will close my account….but not until I’ve paid in the cash. Oh Lordy Lordy. So business counter, change paid in, then to the Ice Maiden. Apparently my signature has changed since I opened my account….No Sh*t Sherlock, I was about 16 when I opened the account.. and lets just say I can remember the BBC Micro computer and Button Moon with fondness – needless to say I’m a way off 16. So a scowl and interrogation later I finally get what I came in for about 57 minutes ago and my parking is nearly up…….GGGRRRRRRRR.
So why am I whinging on here? well that particular bank won’t give a monkey’s about my complaint, after all I’m not a customer any more…. thank goodness, so I’ve vented on here – hence the warning at the top of the page, and the second post with todays date that is actually linked to hips!
For all those that have suffered this rant, I hope you’ll pull through, please seek medical attention if required, failing that a walk or hobble in the cold air should revive you.