If everybody had stuck to this rather sensible advice from The Bard then we wouldn’t have banks.
In particular the situation where I was in a mood in a bank trying to close an account and being told by an obnoxious jumped up branch manager not to shout and then having to explain I wasn’t shouting I was just louder than her, and besides if she hadn’t stomped out from the back of the branch to talk to me I would already have managed to leave and would in fact be outside by now would not have happened.
So now I have to go back to Santander next week in my free time to close an account that in the last couple of months has cost me a small fortune mainly due to disgraceful charging policies on account of the aforementioned bank. I’ll admit, my money management isn’t great, but with charging policies that mean they can charge me when I go over a limit because they have charged me what fucking chance do I have?
In short; I hate banks. If I could keep my small amount of money under my bed or in my wardrobe I would. I don’t like being forced to give my money to a bunch of incompetent unreliable and untrustworthy buffoons, but such is life.
Okay, deep breath. Rant over. As you were.

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