Premium Bonds, Foreigners and Gary.
Heading to my local Abbey branch (Now Santander?) I went to receive my plunder due to the sum of £50.
£50 I'd won via Premium Bonds, such a joyous bounty I thought, I couldn't wait to add the princely sum to my account.

Then came my downfall in the form of the woman behind the glass panel of poor communication and bitter memories. This relatively simple task of receiving my money was about to become a lot more difficult.

For you see, lurking behind the counter of questionable convenience was a woman.
This woman, was foreign.
Ugly too, uglier than a combination of pus, blood and a cat all blended up into one gruesome smoothie. (Patent Pending)
She also had a massive mole malingering on her mug.

The next five minutes were an incomprehensible exchange.
I didn't know the exact type of account I had. I didn't know the jargon. Why was she not giving back my cash card. (At this point I only had an account to withdraw money from the machine, no fancy debit card for poor old Crud.) Apparently I had a savings account, also apparently this wouldn't do. A few confused and not entirely agreeing nods later I was being led somewhere.

I should mention that I was with my friend at this time. He'd been standing behind me quietly chuckling.
At this time he sort of broke into a bit more of a roaring laugh, quickly quieting for fear of too much attention.

I was sat down in front of a jowly, balding man named Gary. To be fair he was nice enough, friendly.
While my friend comes, sit downs next to me and laughs snickers solidly for the next ten minutes.

I come away from it with £500 moved from my main account to this new one with a not too shabby 5% interest. My main excitement came from the fact that it'd also apparently come with a debit card. My mind filled with images of things being bought from the internet! What joy would come!
I left, not too unhappy if a little bemused. My bonds had been cashed and I'd received a new method of buying utter wank.

I swear I even saw the ugly foreign woman and Gary do a little high five and even a little dance. Some sort of bonus they'd receive? Or perhaps a quota they had to meet, who knew or even cared for that matter, I was content.

One week later comes my new card. I open it up in excitement and look in and see...
Yet another bloody cash card.

The utter cunts.

(That makes three now.)

Apologies for length, it took me long enough to get the first account set up and there weren't any people speaking in broken English that time.
(Crudler, Sat 18 Jul 2009, 18:01, 2 replies)

In The Style Of...
"the glass panel of poor communication and bitter memories"

"the counter of questionable convenience"

Can't read that without Bill Bailey narrating it in my head.
(Neil_E_There didn't the Aussies used to be good at cricket?, Tue 21 Jul 2009, 16:43, closed)

Ah if only

If I were Bill Bailey then I'd be happy.
Ridiculously confused mind but happy.
(Crudler, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 17:21, closed)