Bank rage

Louise-Anne Suttie usually has a great experience when she visits her bank, but not this time. Read all about bank rage here.....

I really, really like my bank

The staff are friendly and efficient and the vibe is good. You feel important even if you only have ten cents to your name. Lovely.

So, when I have to go and sort out a small problem relating to my account, I am not stressed. I have never been left waiting (and the aircon is always a bonus).

I walk in and admire the modern décor

The enquiries queue seems abnormally long but it is sure to move fast. I drag a humbug out of my bag and am pleasantly surprised by the man in front of me’s cheerful greeting. Seems a pleasant fellow.

I try to look intelligent watching the finance stuff on the huge TV.

Strange, the queue is not moving today

Scratch around for another humbug and peer at my cell phone, checking smss. After which I squint to see what the hold up is.

Can you believe this? The man at the counter has enough papers spread all over the desk to start a government archive!

I admire the calm, friendly advisor assisting him. More papers he finds from somewhere.

I think my back is aching a bit and I lean against the cool rail. Thank goodness for the aircon I think again. Is he NEVER going to finish?

I count how many people are in front of me. Seven

Hoo boy! The paper fiend finally gathers his stuff and starts shuffling off...JUST to turn back and start all over again! Yes, my back is definitely hurting now, and that stuff about money on the TV is irritating me.

I dream about yanking the exuberant customer by the ears and telling him: enough now!

My humbugs are finished. And the décor is no longer user-friendly. All those bright colours are messing with my eyes. And I wish cheerful Charlie in front of me would stop yapping and smiling. I idly wonder if a nail file could be used to stab people...

Down to three people

That woman spends more time patting her hairdo than sorting out her business I think crossly. AND her makeup is over the top.

Cheerful Charlie is REALLY getting to me now

I wish I had a sock to stuff in his mouth. And when he mentions that he has a lot of transferring, etc., to do with his accounts, I want to attack him.

Does he have ANY idea how ridiculous his enormous check shirt looks? Like a tablecloth? I am now hanging on the railing like a drunk. And I am sure my face could sink a thousand ships. Grrr!

I am now sure that I am being punished by the universe for being so short on patience. I consider sitting on the floor cross legged like a petulant child. Pleeez!

When it is finally my turn, the darling woman with the disposition of an angel smiles and asks how she can help me.

Ashamed I feel, very ashamed.

But just let me outa here! Sound familiar? Let me light a ciggie while you tell me...

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