Bankers

Let's get this straight.

I was organised. I set up the bank account months ago. It all looked a bit too easy to be honest. But maybe when things work as they're supposed to it is as easy as it looks. But when I go to collect my bank card from the 'bank's agent', guess what.... oh yes, the safe won't open.

My patience in these matters, in case you didn't know, is limited at best. I mean, this 'safe' is surely something you open every day. Announcing to the world that you're going to get some more batteries to help resolve the problem with the safe doesn't inspire me with confidence that you have the problem under control. What kind of safe, exactly, relies on batteries or remote power of any description to allow it to open. No, I think you're a twat making excuses to go and get breakfast. What's more, when you come back from the shops, faff around for half an hour and then send me to the bank itself, I'm beginning to think about banking elsewhere.

So I get to the bank. The one where they're meant to have been told that there are three people wanting bank cards created for them because of aforementioned safe issues. But no, we can't issue cards on the spot, and no we don't care if you need to catch a flight to canberra (not me, some other victim). You need to come back this afternoon. Did I mention we couldn't give a shit?

Well bingo buddy, neither do I. If there's anything I've learned it's this. There's more than one bank on the high street and if you're not happy with whatever aspect of the service you're getting, or not getting, move on, find another.

So Citibank. You can keep your account. We're done.