Are we reasonable beings?
Was it last month or 4 months ago that I unsuccessfully tried to open my children their very own bank accounts? I couldn't remember. What I could remember though was the extreme difficulty in booking an appointment in order to sort out something seemingly simple. Thank you corona virus.
So, here I was, sitting in a tiny windowless room on the top floor at Barclays, staring at the bank employee who was sitting behind a Plexiglass screen and typing rigorously in front of his computer. ''Is your son living with you?'', he asked me with pretentious interest. His thinning blonde hair was shining under the artificial light of the inadequately ventilated room. He was many years younger than me but he had the aura of an older person, emitting conservatism and rigidity with every word he uttered and every gesture he made. 'Yes', I answered patiently while hoping for this barrage of silly questions to end sometime soon. ''It seems this utility bill is printed off the internet, is that so?'' ''Yes',' I answered, impatiently this time. ''I am afraid I cannot accept it if it's printed off the internet'', he exclaimed. ''There are no paper house bills coming under my name, we've gone paperless. There still validity there, isn't there? These are the genuine pdfs from the official sites!',' I eagerly tried to explain. ''I understand',' he said, ''but there is a URL printed on the bottom of the page. I don't mind if it is actually printed off the internet but it shouldn't really LOOK like it is.'' At that point I think I stared at him with my mouth left slightly open. I was trying hard to process the information and make some sense out of it. I couldn't really. ''Do you have a bank account?', he went on. ''Of course I do!'', I answered this time obviously annoyed. ''Great'', he said, ''Could you open your banking app and print out a recent bank statement for me please?''. I am sure that my mouth was wide open at that point. I stared at him for a couple of seconds trying to apply my calming breathing technique as much as the time and place allowed. ''Let me just try to clarify things here'', I finally pulled myself together. ''Would you like me to print my bank statement ...off the internet?'', I cried while trying to contain my bubbling objection. With his most natural tone he answered 'yes'. I suddenly remembered my severe allergy to human incoherence and unreasonability. I can't comply with this, it is against my personal values, I thought. ''I don't do banking on my phone, I don't think it's safe. I am sorry'', I managed to say in a condescending voice. That was it, my inner bitch was out, now I just had to control her and make sure she doesn't bite too much. ''Sure'', he said, ''I understand''. He finally accepted another utility bill that looked... less like it was printed off the internet. ''Does your daughter live with you?'', he continued with ticking the idiotically engineered boxes. 'Yes...', I sighed silently. Hopefully I would be out of this asphyxiating room soon. ''If you could please sign here and here... Here are your account numbers and sort code!'' He gave me the numbers written on the back of a copy of my password. ''Could I make a deposit today? I asked with an instant regret. ''Do you have cash on you?'', he replied. I didn't. ''You need to go to your bank and withdraw some money then and then come back here to make a deposit.'' That was it. I couldn't contain myself any more. I felt I didn't have to. ''Cash?? But I am at a bank after all! Cash and paper bills?? You people at Barclays need to catch up with the evolving world and update your services'', I barked at him. He gave me an apologetic smile and pretended to agree with me. I thanked him and I got out of there in no time.
As I exited the building and started to stride down Princess Street, I felt I needed to reward myself for being as patient as I was. A good dose of reason and a generous portion of sarcasm was what I needed. I went home and later in the evening I decided to watch again one of Frankie Boyle's shows...