catfish19's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Down with you, banking system I hate bureaucracy. All I want to do is cancel a damn direct debit. The phone company's been charging me for my ex-flatmate's calls for the past three months. She's tried to get them to stop, they told her I, as the bank account holder, had to make the request. I ask them to cancel it, they tell me I'm not authorised to make changes as the phone account's not under my name. They're taking my money, why do they try to tell me I don't have the right to get them to stop? In a blur of rage this afternoon, I sent what may have been a somewhat abusive email to the customer services people. The phrase "screw you" might have been used. Can't be sure... Although, on a more positive note, not all business types are the embodiment of evil, greed and destruction. The other day I went to the bank to pick up my travellers cheques, and the man there was quite helpful and friendly. And hot. And, well... familiar! So, I was sitting across the desk from this young blonde guy, thinking three things: 1 - "I know this dude from somewhere..." 2 - "I seem to recall making a total fool of myself in front of him..." and 3 - "Be smooth. Don't let on how attractive you think he is! Don't blush." Then I saw his bronze nameplate, and I blushed, and I remembered making a total fool of myself in front of him. For, you see, this guy - let's call him Hank, cos Hank's a funny name, and isn't it even funnier if Hank works in a bank? - is a friend of a friend. A while ago, I was sitting in a car with three boys outside a party that was not as yet cranking. Up walks Hank, with his friend, who is also my friend. Said mutual friend introduces Hank to the three boys and to me. "Hi, I'm Hank", says Hank, flashing his perfect teeth and possibly a hint of dimple. I think to myself, as I had done so many times before, and have done since, "Hot boy alert! Be smooth. Don't let on how hot he is! Don't blush!" "Hi Hank, I'm Pete", says Pete. "I'm Sam", says Sam. "I'm Alex", says Alex, truthfully. And then it's my turn. So, I open my mouth, all ready for smooth, nonchalant words to come out. "I'm Alex", say I. Which, of course, would be fine if I were actually called Alex. And if Alex hadn't just said "I'm Alex". "No, I'm Alex", says Alex. And Hank looks bewildered. I try to set the situation straight - "Oh, my bad. I'm not Alex - sorry!" - and then I go on to tell him my real name, and that I was off in fairyland and just repeated the last thing I heard as though I were some kind of freak parrot with an identity crisis, and I ramble on and on until eventually he must know that I got flustered because he's so damn HOT and all I could think of was trying to be smooth so I forgot my own name. So much for being smooth. 10:38 p.m. - 2004-05-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||