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Senior moments grrrrrrrrrr. I will try to copy it and perhaps the mods will delete if it's too cumbersome.
GO GET ‘EM GRANNY!
A 98 year old woman in the UK wrote this to her bank. The bank manager
thought it amusing enough to have it published in The Times.
Dear Sir,
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my cheque with which I endeavoured to
pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have
elapsed between his presenting the cheque and the arrival in my account of
the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly
deposit of my Pension, an arrangement, which, I admit, has been in place for
only thirty eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief
window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account £30 by way of
penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.
My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me
to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally
attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am
confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity
which your bank has become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal
with a flesh-and-blood person.
My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be
automatic, but will arrive at your bank by cheque, addressed personally and
confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware
that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such
an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I
require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight
pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows
about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or
her medical history must be countersigned by a Solicitor, and the mandatory
details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and
liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, I will issue your employee with PIN number which he/she must
quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28
digits but, again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses
required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As
they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press
buttons as follows:
1. To make an appointment to see me.
2. To query a missing payment.
3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer is
required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the
Authorized Contact.)
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through to 8.
9. To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on
hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this
may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the
duration of the call.
Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an
establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.
Your Humble Client
(Remember: This was written by a 98 year old woman;
You must be the oldest vine member at 98 Brengirl!
My Majesty made for him a garden anew in order to present to him vegetables and all beautiful flowers.- Offerings of Thutmose III to Amon-Ra (1500 BCE)
Don't you wish that you had written this?
This was actually taken from a passport application and a member of staff copied it, as it made her laugh all day.
Subject: Passport Application
Dear Minister,
I'm in the process of renewing my passport but I am a total loss to understand or believe the hoops I am being asked to jump through.
How is it that Bert Smith of T.V. Rentals Basingstoke has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a satellite dish from them back in 1994, and yet, the Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date?
How come that nice West African immigrant chappy who comes round every Thursday night with his DVD rentals van can tell me every film or video I have had out since he started his business up eleven years ago, yet you still want me to remind you of my last three jobs, two of which were with contractors working for the government?
How come the T.V. detector van can tell if my T.V. is on, what channel I am watching and whether I have paid my licence or not, and yet if I win the government run lottery they have no idea I have won or where I am and will keep the bloody money to themselves if I fail to claim in good time.
Do you people do this by hand?
You have my birth date on numerous files you hold on me, including the one with all the income tax forms I've filed for the past 30-odd years. It's on my health insurance card, my driver's licence, on the last four passports I've had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out before being allowed off the planes and boats over the last 30 years, and all those insufferable census forms that are done every ten years and the electoral registration forms I have to complete, by law, every time our lords and masters are up for re-election.
Would somebody please take note, once and for all, I was born in Maidenhead on the 4th of March 1957, my mother's name is Mary, her maiden name was Reynolds, my father's name is Robert, and I'd be absolutely astounded if that ever changed between now and the day I die!
I apologise Minister. I'm obviously not myself this morning. But between you and me, I have simply had enough! You mail the application to my house, then you ask me for my address. What is going on? Do you have a gang of Neanderthals working there? Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want to activate the Fifth Reich for God's sake! I just want to go and park my weary backside on a sunny, sandy beach for a couple of week's well-earned rest away from all this crap.
Well, I have to go now, because I have to go back to Salisbury and get another copy of my birth certificate because you lost the last one. AND to the tune of 60 quid! What a racket THAT is!! Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day? But nooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd rather have us running all over the place like chickens with our heads cut off, then find some tosser to confirm that it's really me on the goddamn picture - you know... the one where we're not allowed to smile in in case we look as if we are enjoying the process!
Hey, you know why we can't smile? 'Cause we're totally jacked off!
I served in the armed forces for more than 25 years including over ten years at the Ministry of Defence in London. I have had security clearances which allowed me to sit in the Cabinet Office, five seats away from the Prime Minister while he was being briefed on the first Gulf War and I have been doing volunteer work for the British Red Cross ever since I left the Services. However, I have to get someone 'important' to verify who I am -- you know, someone like my doctor....
who, before he got his medical degree 6 months ago WAS LIVING IN PAKISTAN...
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