Bankers - again!

Did I ever tell you I can’t abide bankers? Well, that’s a lie in all honesty. My mate Damian is a banker and damned fine chap he is too. Perhaps it’s the banking system I hate? With their double-entry this and quill pen that! Even in India I can’t get away from the pinch faced sons of Micauwber.

I had the misfortune to run low on Indian rupees. Now, the past couple of times that’s happened I’ve gone along to the local ATM, tapped in my code and bingo, cash. Simple eh, and just how it should be. Back in the UK when I wanted to by some dollars, I merely sauntered down the high street, into Thomas Cook bought how ever many US dollars I required and the job was done, in less than five minutes. This time, I made a fatal error. I wanted to convert $100 cash into rupees.

Once I’d actually found the foreign exchange desk, Miss Pasty-face was busy having a jolly natter with her friend on the phone. She glanced up only once to spot my presence but that actually made no difference to the length of her call. So by the time she actually put the phone down, I already had a nervous twitch. After explaining the transaction I wished to make, I had to fill a form in (how unusual in India!). Once duly completed and handed back, my USD were taken from me. No going back now eh? Passing me a receipt and a metal numbered tag (211 just in case)“Please take a seat there” she requested. I was going to say “which one and fro where” but knowing Miss Pasty-face wouldn’t clock on, I just thought sod it and sat down. After asking how long I would be required to wait. “Oh, no longer than ten to fifteen minutes”, was her conservative reply.

I witnessed my completed form being handed to an office run… walker, who took it to another desk. It was inspected, stamped and sent on its way. I then lost sight of the form for a good fifteen minutes. Sat just behind Miss Pasty-face was Mr. Belicose. I think Mr. Belicose’s hobby is holding court. Whilst wiping caviar and truffles away from his corpulent gob, he was telling anyone and everyone in the immediate vicinity how unfair it was that the world was blaming the banking system for its recent woes.

Bugger me, just when he was getting to the most vitriolic part of his tirade. My crisp $100 US arrived on his desk. By now, I was seething and acutely aware of how this particular bank’s system runs. Slowly is the answer and in triplicate! Still attempting to gob off to anyone that would listen he counted my five, brand new twenty dollar bills. FIVE TIMES he counted them! Five times before getting up and taking the cash to the safe. The safe must be a big ‘un, going off the size of the key. Hey, is that how bankers attempt to impress their potential sexual conquests. “Hey baby, my bonus wasn’t overly generous this year but you want to see the size of my key!”

Wobbling back to his desk, I caught sight of my form again. He gave it a quick read and out came the rubber stamp. The form was then handed back to the walker, who, I couldn’t believe this passed it all of less than six inches to Miss Pasty-face. She looked at the form, looked at me and said, “You need now to go and stand at that end cubicle”. My patience was wearing decidedly thin at this point. But I’m a good lad really and getting angry in a foreign country would solve nothing, so off I went. To the busiest cubicle in the entire bank, where one miserable old boot of a cashier was calling out tag numbers and settling the transactions in cash.

Thank goodness, I was called second up. I really couldn’t have waited any longer. My blood was about to pop out through my eye sockets and the veins on my temple had reached gargantuan proportions. I calmly sat down in front of the cashier, with about forty-seven other folk watching, as she counted out four thousand, four hundred and ten rupees. I know it’s harder reading the sum written down like that and believe me it’s harder writing it like that but it felt even longer when she counted it out. Note by note. Five times!

So not too bad then eh? Only thirty five minutes from start to finish. Thirty five f’in minutes of my life wasted in a soddin’ bank! And to think I was doing them a favour by actually selling them something that they wanted! I’ll definitely be using the ATM next time. It’s a machine, it’s efficient and I think the automated voice has the hots for me. I just hope that the landlord of the Regal Moon has change for a $20 bill next time I go in.