Your Money or Your Life
I'd arranged with the builder to pay him ten monthly instalments as the renovation works progressed. I'm in Dorset and the project was in South London but he wanted cash. So I made an arrangment with my bank to have the cash waiting for me in London on a set date and I would travel up collect the money on a monthly basis and inspect the work in progress at the same time. The bank told me to make sure I had my passport with me for identification and that was all there was to it. Except that the amount of cash was £12000 each time!
The bank branch was a very small one in a very busy high street. I stood in the long queue and began to sweat with fear. I may be a South London girl but I've been Dorsetised and I wasn't used to standing in a queue of strangers which was made worse by the fact I could see and hear every single detail of every single counter transaction because of the size of the bank. My turn - I mumbled my name, showed my passport, whispered the amount I was collecting and went into a menopausal flush. The cashier said in her normal voice "Oh yes! Twelve thousand pounds wasn't it? Wait here while I get the forms for you to sign" I wanted to turn and run. I didn't dare look round at the queue of what I was sure were armed bank robbers.
The cashier came back, I signed the forms and then-she counted out twelve thousand pounds in £50 notes in front of everyone, they all saw her, bunged it into a buff envelope, sealed it and that was it. Now I had to leave and walk past the ever growing queue hoping that nobody had mobiled a mate telling them to bump the flush faced perspiring blonde over the head and grab her bag.
My building project was just six shops along but it was the longest few yards I have ever walked in my life. The builders were all there. Well, they would be knowing it was pay day eh? We went behind a skip and I said to my builder that he'd have to trust me that it was all there as I had no intention of standing anywhere and counting it all out. I wanted out of there!
I'd calmed down by the time I arrived back at Waterloo. As soon as I got home later that afternoon I 'phoned my bank and told them this was never to happen again and that I would rather wait for as long as it took for a private room to be free. They did agree this should never have been allowed to happen. For the remaining nine monthly cash withdrawals I had a private room set aside where the money was counted in private. Nobody in my home town knew what I did once a month and Morty was sworn to secrecy on pain of death if he told anyone about it. Just as simple for a local villain to pass on the information.
This was all two years ago now, and do you know what? I've only just been able to talk about that dreadful experience. I've gone all goose bumped just writing this.
The bank branch was a very small one in a very busy high street. I stood in the long queue and began to sweat with fear. I may be a South London girl but I've been Dorsetised and I wasn't used to standing in a queue of strangers which was made worse by the fact I could see and hear every single detail of every single counter transaction because of the size of the bank. My turn - I mumbled my name, showed my passport, whispered the amount I was collecting and went into a menopausal flush. The cashier said in her normal voice "Oh yes! Twelve thousand pounds wasn't it? Wait here while I get the forms for you to sign" I wanted to turn and run. I didn't dare look round at the queue of what I was sure were armed bank robbers.
The cashier came back, I signed the forms and then-she counted out twelve thousand pounds in £50 notes in front of everyone, they all saw her, bunged it into a buff envelope, sealed it and that was it. Now I had to leave and walk past the ever growing queue hoping that nobody had mobiled a mate telling them to bump the flush faced perspiring blonde over the head and grab her bag.
My building project was just six shops along but it was the longest few yards I have ever walked in my life. The builders were all there. Well, they would be knowing it was pay day eh? We went behind a skip and I said to my builder that he'd have to trust me that it was all there as I had no intention of standing anywhere and counting it all out. I wanted out of there!
I'd calmed down by the time I arrived back at Waterloo. As soon as I got home later that afternoon I 'phoned my bank and told them this was never to happen again and that I would rather wait for as long as it took for a private room to be free. They did agree this should never have been allowed to happen. For the remaining nine monthly cash withdrawals I had a private room set aside where the money was counted in private. Nobody in my home town knew what I did once a month and Morty was sworn to secrecy on pain of death if he told anyone about it. Just as simple for a local villain to pass on the information.
This was all two years ago now, and do you know what? I've only just been able to talk about that dreadful experience. I've gone all goose bumped just writing this.
posted by Buggles Balham High Road at 1:22 PM
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