I now deal with my online bank account mostly online, despite my suspiciousness about Teknika, and in particular Informatika. They keep updating it and having submissive little paragraphs saying how they only want to help and to just tell them if I don’t like something and…
BASTARDS!
… most of the time, it’s fine. Really it is. My kids want me to send them money, I send them money. I can see my statements and…
LISTEN YOU BRAIN-DEAD TURD-EATING WANK-FACED ZOMBIES, ALL I WANT IS TO UPDATE MY ADDRESS!
… allegedly it’s really easy to do things like update my contact details though it took me ages to find which menu to use because my logic is not the computer’s logic.
WHAT A STUPID PLACE TO PUT CHANGING MY ADDRESS, UNDER MY PERSONAL PROFILE, I DIDN’T KNOW I H A D A PERSONAL PROFILE, YOU MORONS!
So anyway, sometimes what should be a simple job that takes about three minutes takes three days and…
F**K! F**K! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I CAN’T UPDATE THIS PAGE AT THIS TIME? LIKE WHAT? ARE YOU HAVING A F**KING HOLIDAY, BANK COMPUTER, OR ARE YOU DRUNK ON THAT YUMMY BURST OF DATA OR WHAT?
… an awful lot of trouble. Honestly, all I wanted to do was update my address because I’ve moved and…
AGAIN? I CAN’T F**KING UPDATE IT AGAIN? IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE F**KING DAY, I JUST INPUT EVERYTHING YOU ASKED FOR AND YOU TELL ME I CAN’T UPDATE THE PAGE AT THIS TIME AGAIN, YOU DOZEY IDLE EXCUSE FOR A SILICONE WANK-FEST!
… I couldn’t. So I tried to ring them…
WHAT THE F**K? NUMBER UNOBTAINABLE? WHAT THE F**KING F**K?!
… and even after I got the number right (ahem) I still had to talk to the…
F**KING SWITCHBOARD WHICH CAN’T UNDERSTAND RP ENGLISH BECAUSE WHEN I SAY MY MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME IT GOES “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that…” WELL, WHY THE F**K NOT, JUST BECAUSE IT’S HUNGARIAN, THAT’S WHAT MY MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME F**KING IS!
… automated switchboard…
PUT ME THROUGH TO A HUMAN BEING! PUT ME THROUGH TO A HUMAN BEING! HUMAN BEING! HUMAN BEING!
… and then deal with someone whose first language may have been some kind of English but not a kind I find easy to understand and so I find myself coming over all British and speaking Very Slowly which he deals with by apologising at which point I tell him that it’s not his fault the f**king computer is a computer… “Ooops, sorry, shouldn’t have said f**k to you, sorry…” and he says he’s dealt with it but he hasn’t put in the zip code which is sort of important so I have to…
START THE WHOLE F**KING PHONE PROCESS AGAIN BECAUSE HE’S CUT ME OFF AND I’M BACK TO THE MORONIC F**KING SWITCHBOARD AGAIN AND AAAAARRGGGHH!
… ring again and do it again. And I think back to the old days when there was a form on the back of your chequebook and you could fill it in and send it to them and then they’d change your address in their files, probably by somebody with a quill pen filling it out in exquisite copperplate and…
WAAH! WAAH! WAAAH!
I’m exhausted.