Pop!

The pop was my sanity around lunchtime today. Give me sick kids over traffic and town, any day! Does that give a hint to the mood I was in?

Such a shame too! As I’ve figured out pretty views really improve my day, and today the sun shone and raised my spirits gloriously. Here’s the view as I walked on the beach this morning.

Yes, I know the sun is glaring, and yet again we’re back to my tower. In case you’ve forgotten (or didn’t know), I love my tower. One day I’ll walk out there. When the tide is right and the sun is shining. Of course I’ll need some time too. And a babysitter. But one day…

So what decimated my mood so terribly I hear you ask (hey, someone has to care!). It started yesterday with a call from the insurance agents, to say my payment hadn’t gone through. Not the first time either. Last month it didn’t either, but I supposed that was because the Direct Debit was new and they were late asking the bank for it. Seems not.

I reassured them and promptly called my bank. Except I can’t call my bank, oh no, everything must go through the call centre. Which I hate. With a passion. This number, that number, you are in a queue, please select, and tinny music for ten minutes. Though I must admit on this occasion I had a very nice sounding young man, though I didn’t like what he had to say.

Apparently the account I was trying to set a DD up from, doesn’t allow DDs. So I asked if the dozen or so, I had already set up, were just in my imagination (which would kind of suit me!) After several holding minutes, the young man returned to tell me, I obviously had a special arrangement, and that I had to go into my local bank and tell them the DD was okay. I asked if I couldn’t simply have their number and call them. But that’s not allowed.

So today, after my tranquil and calming walk on the beach, I made the mistake of going into town to see the bank. This is another place that bothers me! Everyone’s so darned young.

After explaining my problem to three different women, the third called for male assistance, after we had the same conversation the young man from the day before and I, had had. The pair of them sat there, frowning at the computer screen as they scrolled through my numerous DD.

Very odd they declared, and surmised the account must be old, because these days Instant Access Savings Accounts don’t allow DD. (It isn’t that old. I opened it under bank advisement when I was a teenager.)

After several minutes of umming and ahhing they announced the present DDs could stand, but no new ones.

But that doesn’t suit me. So I told them I couldn’t care less what type of account it was, I just want to keep things tidy and have all my DDs together.

At first they agreed. Then exchanged frowns and a hushed conversation, before telling me it couldn’t be done.

Now I’m not going to bore you with the full story of why, but incompetence and a poor accounts package explains enough. To sum up though, to keep my DDs together, I have to close that account and open another. Should I care? I wouldn’t. If they could just DO IT!

I should add, I only have so much time to sit here and type this. And I don’t think I’ve conveyed how frustrated I was getting at this point. I was even having to resort to imagining these people as my friends, or rather my friends children. This is a safety mechanism I have, when the urge to shout and scream, is becoming a little too real. I know that nothing that came out of their mouths, was their personal opinions. Just bank policy. Though being so bloody young, didn’t help. And I did wish they’d stop going on about how damn old the account must be.

So there we were, me grinding my teeth and reminding myself to breath, and the young man explains to me (in a slow deliberate tone) I must return, with my BH to sign the forms within the bank, and have suitable ID. But not to worry, as it should only takes us twenty minutes or so.

After twenty years of banking there, they want to check who I am. No matter that my account served me well for those twenty years, or that the problem is because of their change of policy, or that I don’t care if they reduce the interest to zero. No, because all it takes is twenty minutes. For them to close the OLD account, and open a new one. And for me to fill in my tax form. And for me to call and update my insurance payment. And to transfer all the other DDs. Like hell! But I didn't say that, instead I tried to explain why twenty minutes was totally unrealistic when you take into account the time of all the people involved in this minor change added up to.

But I was also losing the will to live, as I at least, realised my efforts of logic were lost on these front people.

And now, having had several hours to think things over, I’m almost amused (not totally, haven’t got there yet). I guess I must really be getting old if I think repairing the old, makes more sense than throwing it out and hurrying in the new. Umm, and I think that’s also part of my problem. This account isn’t just a bunch of numbers to me. How insane does that sound? I haven’t had the chance to explain how I came to have this account, and I shan’t now, as I’ve bored you enough. But. But.

But nothing. I’m a fool. Having typed this, it’s suddenly that simple to let go. Wow, cheap therapy! Just wish I was a fool with more time, as this really will require more than twenty minutes all told, but you gotta smile, right?


And so, before posting, to finish on a high note of something pretty, here’s a picture of the moon above me right now!