Banks

We are fortunate on Lewis in that in Stornoway - a town of about 12,000 people - we have 5 banks: Bank of Scotland,  Royal Bank of Scotland, TSB, Virgin Money and, of course, the Post Office Bank. 

When I came to Lewis nearly half a century ago the banks all had Managers and they were People of Importance in the community as, indeed, were the Deputy Managers and even the Cashiers were well known. 

As far as I know there are no Bank Managers in Stornoway now although I assume that all the banks are managed and, on the face of it, very well managed. 

I go into the bank quite a lot: partly because I like my bank (the Bank of Scotland), partly because I use my phone to pay for almost everything and therefore need £1 and 50p coins for tips and car parking (on the Island - mainland it's almost all via an app).

Recently I went in to change a large sum of old £20 notes into current currency which had to be done through my bank account. My Canadian visitor was with me (it was actually her money) and, as there was no queue after me (there was the commercial cash counter and another teller anyway) we had a good yarn. I've known the teller (I wonder if they are still called tellers - I bet they are not) since she was a new recruit to the bank as a teenager. Since then she had been in charge of the Tarbert Branch and was now back at her original branch.  She was telling me that she will be retiring this year. It made me very aware of my advancing years.

All except one of the 'original' staff from the '70s and '80s will then have retired and the final one will probably depart this year too. 

I wonder how much things will change. There will still be some familiar faces but it will be one way. I will know their faces but they won't know who I am. 

However, I am hoping that the sense of service will be maintained. When I had a problem with the B of S app on my iPhone recently I just popped in and one of the tellers who knows me found a 'youngster' who was very app aware and she knew exactly what to do. Now that is service.

Thankful Thursday

I am not a Grumpy Old Man.  I'm not old yet for a start.  However this evening whilst trying to log into a bank account I received the following (amongst many other) message:

I have no need of an overdraft nor any loans and the account is not a premier one with benefits related to income so why do I need to tell them my income?  The problem is that if you don't answer the questions you can't access your accounts.  Whyyyyyy? 

The last few days I have felt overwhelmed.  So many emotions have been churning around.  The number of things which need attention, the amount of clutter to be sorted, the things I want to achieve and the planning for the summer have all seemed to be much bigger tasks than they are in reality.  And I've been visiting friends and none is as fit as when I left 6 months ago.  

I need to change my house insurance.  I have been with the same insurer for years.  I am, as a consequence, paying over twice as much as quotes I have had from other reputable companies and nearly £1000 more than a friend with a larger house in an urban area is paying with an equally reputable company.  Now I haven't checked the wording of all the policies.  Have you?  Of course you haven't.  Why?  Well one reason could be that if your car is insured with Endsleigh the policy will run to 37,674 words.  That is more than Orwell's classic novel Animal Farm.  Apparently 73% of people do not read their car insurance policies.

On the bright side Nissan is trialling a new 'self-cleaning' paint that's resistant to rain and dirt.  That should cheer us all up no end.

Oh yes.  It's Thursday.  I should be thankful.  I am.  There is an hour and forty minutes (BST) to go until it's tomorrow.  There is a sporting chance that I will have survived another day.

On Banks, A Sadness of Life and Why Heather Would Be Pleased

I went into the Bank again this morning. I couldn't access one of my accounts on line. I like my Bank. Not because of what they do with my money nor because their shares have done well . Their interest rates are no better than elsewhere and, like a lot of other people over the last while, I had shares in the Bank (after all Banks are a safe bet - yea right) and lost money. OK whilst it was a sum not to be sneezed at it wasn't going to affect my life in the way that it has affected many lives. So why am I happy with my Bank?

Because they know who I am. And because I know who they are. Because I am a name. And because they are names. I have been going to that Bank for well over 30 years. Many of the staff in the Bank have been there for a good many of those years. We have a history. Histories (usually whether good or bad) give us a feeling of security. I usually come out of the Bank feeling happier than when I went in. That alone is almost a good reason for going into it.

I had a meeting with one of the advisers last week and I needed more help this morning so I just popped in. She (sorry She does have a name and I know that name but....) sorted the problem. Whilst doing so we chatted. Isn't that what life is about. It didn't cost the Bank a penny and it meant a happy customer. And that's what is so sad. The Bank's higher management couldn't care less.

So why have I said all this. Partly because if anyone from the Bank were ever to read this I'd like them to know how much they are appreciated. And partly because when I was chatting we discussed various things which arose out of things which happened. Firstly - and this is why Heather will be happy - on the desk in the Bank was a Reminder: Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46 v 10). Secondly because something arose which made me think of the sadness of some aspects of the life we lead.

Pauline from The Paddock recently posted a fabulous photograph. One that I would have given my eye teeth to have captured. Had I been anywhere with family children then that would have been fine. But had I just seen the opportunity I could not have risked taking the photograph. After all if I can't photograph a statue in a bus station then what hope is there if I want to photograph a person without their permission (or in this case a parent's permission). And by the time all the formalities have been attended to the spontaneity of the moment is lost.

I could go on but by now, dear reader, you are probably getting tired. And I have work to do. I'm glad I visited the Bank this morning.