© 2011 Becca. All rights reserved. dsc_0185

#Fail #Understatement

Sipping a delicious red, soaking up the delicious sawdust scent of new kitchen, we roar with delicious, soul soothing laughter at the stupidly surreal error that Santander managed to make.

Nope. Not there yet.

I remain firmly planted in the blood-boiling-murderous-rage stage of the healing process, fresh in the horror of Santander’s heinous mistake. Inadvertently transferring tens of thousands of pounds, my entire house deposit, into the wrong receiving bank account.

The imbecilic act made doubly gut-churning having stood reading back sort code and account details, repeated aloud by the cashier (aka #Fuckwit – I can’t be polite when minus £xx,xxx), and providing official documentation provided by LLP.

Post credit-crunch, economic crash, bank buyout, bonus-gate, whichever jargoneese to which you prefer to refer, in combination with this latest excruciatingly moronic transfer I draw but one conclusion; stuffing money into your mattress and facing the world with paper over plastic is the only truly safe banking method, and one robber later even then you are screwed.

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