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Saturday, 16 May 2009


I am not even going to begin about credit card calling centres or hole in the wall machines or the fact that a bank can make your account dormant if you have not used it for a year, without writing a letter first, and you have to re-apply to open your own bank account. Nor am I going to complain about ringing my bank in Scotland to ask why they have not made a transfer here from a letter dated April 18th to which they reply they never got the letter in the first place which means printing out the original with a strong line through the original date (black pen) and resending that "urgent". I will not complain about the operator at the credit card center called Alila who asked me to phone her back on the same number once the Spanish bank confirmed the transaction was not accepted by their hole in the wall machine. So, I call back the number and ask to speak to Alila where a puzzled voice says, "But Mrs Choosh (nobody can pronounce my name here which makes any kind of waiting room an exercise in precise lateral thinkng) Mrs Choosh, there are two thousand people in this call centre. I don't know Alila."
Well, I ask..."I have no problem with my credit, right"
"Why is the machine here in Spain not accepting it."
"I don't know, Mrs Choosh. Thank you for choosing our service. Goodbye"

The trio was fun yesterday. Now we are a cinco and they call me violin primero which makes me laugh. It will also give you an idea of what we sound like. Think Women's Institute and a collection of long forgetten hormones.

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