HBOS called me today. I was quite surprised. Usually when people’s actions are so controversial they end up vilified all over the news, a low public profile often follows. Yet here were HBOS, the most topical thing of the moment, phoning me up casually as you like, personally inviting me round to there’s for a chat. Whatever next, I wonder. Bin Laden popping round for a scone?
They want to talk to me about what might be best for my savings. Previously, the extent of my relationship with HBOS had been conducted solely through a numerical keypad, and an odd letter of correspondence going on about home insurance, or something I’m equally ambivalent about. Yet now their offering me personal time and I don’t even have to pay for it. They just want to sit down with me and give me some advice, just like a friend would. How lovely.
To be honest, I’m not sure how much interaction I feel necessary to have with my bank. I know they only have my best interests at heart, but the ‘keeping my wages for me to withdraw whenever I want without any required dialogue’ thing we had going on was working for me just fine. Exactly how much value is there, for either party, in a man to wittering on about savings, shares and investments to another man who won’t understand a word, and will eventually get pre-occupied by what variety of Gregg’s pasty he’ll be treating himself to for dinner?
Clearly I am not well-versed in the world on banking, and it is perversely for this very reason I’ve decided it might be quite sensible to go on and see them. After all, I do want what’s best for my money. I wouldn’t want to end up doing something stupid with my savings, like one day suddenly stuffing them all in an envelope marked “London” to find their way into the hands of some blundering coke-head, giddily reeling about the grimy City streets with a gutful of champagne. Surely that’d be one of the worst thing I could do. Maybe second only to giving them straight to Howard, the chap off the adverts with little round glasses, who has a tendency to suddenly start surfing, despite the fact he’s wearing a suit, or break into contemporary pop music, despite the fact he can neither sing nor remember the real lyrics. That man is so irritating it borders on being tragic. Nearly as tragic as my sudden realization, that by being an HBOS customer, then really I actually must have paid Howard by default. Brrr.
In reality you don’t see much of the prancing banker nowadays. Presumably, given the financial state there’s no longer any room for knock-about jolly bank adverts. In an attempt to rebuild customer confidence, I expect we’ll start seeing more serious vague advertising again. Now HBOS have been bought out, I expect the Lloyd’s horse figurehead will start making a more frequent appearance. Which seems a little unfair. It’s not really Howard’s fault that the whole economy started to collapse. The bloke must be gutted. Imagine how demoralizing it would be, having to explain how you lost your job to a horse. Poor Howie. He may have been irritating but at least he was harmless. I genuinely hope Lloyds/HBOS will keep him on in some role or other. Even if it’s just a job mucking out the stables.
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