I hate my bank (and my bank hates me)


So what if I lost my card somewhere between carrying a bag of gravel, crying, getting in a cab, getting lost and finally arriving home. That doesn’t mean it’s not still my money.

I know that they have to be very secure to stop those pesky pinches taking my last penny but when presented with ID, where I opened my account, when I last used my card and THREE examples of my signature you would think they would be pretty sure I am me! NO!

It turns out there is a password on my account. Does anyone else know about this? Password protected money. I have to be extra careful writing this, I don’t want to give out all of my secrets BUT there are only two passwords I ever really use. Tried them both. OUTLOUD in the bank, no secret whispers or writing it down or anything to protect the money they’re so desperately trying to keep from me. She gave me a VERY big clue which then lead to the right secret code word.

What confuses me most is that I have had the same account for a veryyyy long time. Long before the password thing even existed. How did it get there? Did my mum do it to stop me spending? Does my bank spy on me and pick out something to use? Do I dream bank? I don’t understand!

And so I moan and moan and make a fuss about how much I hate them. And the only thing I could do about it is to just change who I bank with, but that’s a lot of effort and I’m lazy. So I blog.

Life is fun.


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