I wasted nearly my entire lunch break this afternoon at the bank. I was forced to wait at the cash point for almost 10 minutes while an elderly lady in front of me spent ages pushing buttons on the keypad, inserting and removing debit cards, before walking away muttering to herself.
When I finally got to the cash machine, put in my card and entered the pin number, I discovered why the old woman had spent so long bashing keys with her fist. There was no money left. It would have been nice for the woman to have told me the machine had been drained of cash, instead of allowing me to work out for myself.
I needed money so had to go into the bank to get some. As I entered the building, I was dismayed to see the old bint from outside, counting endless quantities of £20 notes, obviously making some large transition into or out of her bank account. At this point, I realised I wasn’t going to have time to go to the bakery and buy the bacon roll I had been hoping to get for lunch.
While standing in the queue behind the old woman and waiting to withdraw my own money, an angry looking man dressed in a messy builder’s uniform came storming into the bank. Obviously very annoyed about the cash machine failure, he began shouting and complaining about poor reliability of the service (to be fair, he was right). At this point, the bank manager ran out from behind the counter, terrified and fearing for his life, he scurried away into his office, leaving the poor banking clerk to deal with the ever-growing queue of customers, including the angry workman.
I eventually got the £30 from my bank and made my way back to work (with no bacon roll).
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