BanksYour 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
(
chthonic, Thu 16 Jul 2009, 13:15)
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NaughtyDad went to the bank during the lunch and joined the hot and bothered queues waiting their turn. It was a hot day and a petulant crying child gave that grating finishing touch. The mother threatened, bargained and plead in vain to get the damn kid to shut up.
Eventually she tried diplomacy, culminating with:
"Don't be naughty!"
The kid responded,
"I'm not naughty! You're naughty! I saw you kiss daddy's dick!"
Which worked a treat. Mummy went bright red, snatched the noisy kid up and fled the bank.
(, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 14:31, 1 reply)
first seen in hieroglyphs on tutankhamun's tomb;)
(
spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 22 Jul 2009, 16:26,
closed)
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