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This is a question Banks

Your Ginger Fuhrer froths, "I hate my bank. Not because of debt or anything but because I hate being sold to - possibly pathologically so - and everytime I speak to them they try and sell me services. Gold cards, isas, insurance, you know the crap. It drives me insane. I ALREADY BANK WITH YOU. STOP IT. YOU MAKE ME FRIGHTED TO DO MY NORMAL BANKING. I'm angry even thinking about them."

So, tell us your banking stories of woe.

No doubt at least one of you has shagged in the vault, shat on a counter or thrown up in a cash machine. Or something

(, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:15)
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Tortured in the Bank
I worked in a bank for a while between student-stints: the Maypole branch of Birmingham Midshires, just after it had demutualised.

The hitherto part-owners of the erstwhile building society had been offered a choice of cash or shares when it became a bank, and a lot had gone for the cash. Bafflingly, they then tended to withdraw it all at once.

Part of my job involved checking the daily cash delivery; and, because of the payout, this was quite sizeable. It'd vary from day to day, but could be anything between sixty and a couple of hundred thousand pounds - and perhaps a bit more now and again. Given that I was pretty penniless, this could be torture.

Once or twice I put it all into a carrier bag and just held it, simply to know what it'd feel like.
(, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:57, 3 replies)
18 years ago
I worked in a Home Counties bank branch. When we were running short of, say, £10 notes, we'd phone up a branch of a different bank at the other end of the High Street. Then the Head Cashier and I (being the only two sizeable males out of 40-odd staff) would WALK 400 YARDS DOWN THE HIGH STREET WITH 5 GRAND IN £20 NOTES in each inside jacket pocket (£10k each), swap them at the other bank for £10 notes, and walk back again.

With a remote "panic button" that had a range of 100 yards, tops.
(, Sun 19 Jul 2009, 2:06, closed)
Just imagine...
"...Once or twice I put it all into a carrier bag and just held it, simply to know what it'd feel like."

Imagine if someone had walked in at that moment.
(, Mon 20 Jul 2009, 5:21, closed)
I know exactly what this feels like.

My branch was a very busy one in a seaside resort - quiet in the winter, staggeringly busy at the height of summer where we'd have a cash collection every evening rather than weekly.

My initial work there was simply to count and stack the cash (using mafia-style money counters).

One afternoon I had approx 500K on the table in front of me in the back room. I had a brief split-second "Let's run away with all this money" thought, before settling with just scrazzing my face into the piles a bit and going "whee!!"
(, Tue 21 Jul 2009, 15:47, closed)

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