Anyhoo, they've changed all the furnishings and, most notably, where there used to be an isle for customers to line up in (which in this particular branch is never an issue, it always seems to be empty; I'm just grateful there is still a branch locally) there is now a nest of chairs and a coffee table. Adjacent to this is a table upon which there is found a kettle, instant coffee and a small pitcher of milk, along with paper cups and a selection of sweeteners. I was a little disappointed they hadn't installed a barrister as well. Possibly they feel if they have coffee people will come and stay for a while? It makes no sense to me.
As I'd turned up just when the bank was opening, the manager had to call a teller from the back room for me. This woman would have been in her late twenties, possibly early thirties. She asked the usual 'withdrawal or deposit?' and I said I would like to make a deposit.
And then you could have knocked me over with a feather after her next question.
"And is that going into your retirement account?"
I realised I was standing there with my mouth attractively agape when she looked up to check that I hadn't evaporated.
In an attempt not to bitch slap her, I smiled. This is a trick I've been practicing lately to combat the raging inferno that occupies the pit the my stomach most of the time these days (the dragon and I have a lot in common, no wonder I was attracted to St George all those years ago).
She smiled back at me with sweet innocence as I clasped my twitching hands tightly behind my back and took a deep breath, 'Oh, my savings account will be fine, I don't have a retirement account.'
Seriously? I know I'm turning forty in five days time, but I think I look pretty good for all-but-forty!
Maybe she thought I looked especially well-to-do? Maybe I've just mastered looking serene and relaxed; like a person who is retired is supposed to look?
Maybe she is just a twit?
|I'm totally going to rock this look when blowing|
out the candles on my 40th birthday cake!