I’ve just gone into business for myself (yay!) Doing a nice lil’ tax thing for UK Contractors who want to keep their hard earned contract money out of the HM Revenue’s grubby mitts (yay!) And have been going for four months now and trying to steady the rudder of this Industrious monstrosity and quite prepared to deal with the ups and the downs.
I set up a business Bank account with Barclays. This was a serious mistake as Barclays have been absolutely rubbish. Business banking with Barclays offshore is terrible. Error after error after ignored email and erroneous bank charges. Ah well, thinks I, and I go about finding another offshore bank. HSBC were efficient and friendly – unfortunately their online banking leaves a lot to be desired. So I trot off to Natwest and arrange to see their banking liaison’s and get to the meeting this afternoon, and . . .
. . . am met by a gorgeous, fluffy, bouncy, gigglesome twenty-something that flounced over and offered to help me develop some banking relationships.
You have to believe me – I tried. I didn’t want to – I tried to resist. But it was no good. I fell into the ‘flirty’ empasse of chat and respond and winsome smiles and overestimations of turnover (that’ll be in inches, huh) . . . and god I am unclean and brimming with self loathing and feel dirty. The kinda dirty that only a mild acid shower will cleanse.
Yes, I’m old enough to know better. Yes, I’m aware that she uses what she has to to get the job done. Yes, it’s a natural thing to operate on a physical level as well as a myriad other levels. But I just didn’t want to. I just wanted to get account open and things running smoothly and all that without it all resorting to some ‘hur-hur-boobies-eyes-smile-eyes-boobies-boobies-boobies’.
Ah well. I’m making up an excuse about unsigned paperwork and gonna pop in to see her in a few days. Perhaps this time I’ll not wear the flip-flops and suspiciously stained pants!
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