Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 9 degrees, cold, windy and with sun later in the day.
It was just going to be a normal Tuesday where I would visit the two building societies for my mother, do some shopping, and then come home to work for the rest of the day.
The morning was routine, with exercise, a blog post published, classes organised, and so on. Then, I prepared to go out for my mother. The first surprise was that after talking to Julie, there might be a possibility of us having lunch together, which I thought would be quite nice.
Julie would attend her ex-father-in-law’s funeral, not knowing precisely what it would be like there, as she is in the middle of a divorce battle; all of her ex-husband’s clan would be there with sharp tongues, pickaxes, and maybe even guns.
I arrived in Kingswinford to first visit The West Bromwich Building Society to withdraw £200 for my mother. The plan was to withdraw my mother’s pension from The West Bromwich Building Society and then go next door to deposit it in the other building society, to pay for my mother’s bills, which I have been doing for the last month or two.
I patiently waited in the queue at The West Brom Building Society for my turn. When it arrived, a new cashier was there being trained under the guidance of the manageress, a reasonably attractive woman, probably in her late 50s to early 60s.
She came forward to attend to me, automatically informing without hesitation that the third-party bank slip I used every week that my mother filled out so I could withdraw money for her, which I had been doing for the last two months because of her surgery, would be the last time!
What a b#tch!
My mother had called the building society earlier in the week. She had arranged for at least an extra month of using a third-party withdrawal slip, as her recovery from the knee surgery was taking longer than expected. Besides, she’s an old lady of more than 80 years old.
This manageress in front of me is telling me that this is the last time, and besides, who is she to decide when my mother can withdraw her own money?
The moment I showed that I was contrary to her decision, which wasn’t her decision to make, she became nervous and asked me to accompany her to a private meeting room. We entered the meeting room, and she sat in front of me; I remained standing. She had already lost with just this.
She then began to try to justify her decision, saying that my mother had visited the building society the week before, and now that she was mobile again, she no longer needed me to withdraw the money for her.
Who is she to decide that!
I told this silly woman that this was not her decision to make and that she did not know the real condition of my mother’s health. She tried to explain, and then I gave her the first checkmate, asking if she was a doctor, and if she had the right and the criteria to make such a decision.
Obviously, this put gasoline on the fire, and she started to stutter. She did not have an answer, and then the second checkmate came asking her if she had the right to make such decisions about other people’s money, especially someone who is 82 years old and recovering from a difficult surgery.
Again, she did not know what to say; she was at a loss for an argument, and when people lack one, they seize it as a chance to belittle you and engage in personal slander.
She claimed that I was very aggressive, but I was not. I did not raise my voice; I was just being objective in my argument. She was trying to intimidate me, and I would not be intimidated. It is obvious to me that that little branch of building society is her Kingdom to reign where she is law, and because I called her out, I was committing treason.
I asked for the bank slip so I could withdraw money next week for my mother, and we left the meeting room. I withdrew the money, and I was on my way. My adrenaline was racing fast.
After a good argument or fight, you feel so alive!!!
I learned this from my dogs in the past; Bruce and Petra would be the happiest dogs after a fight with other dogs at the park. When they went home, the rest of their day was made just because of the fight at the park. I think it’s very similar to us: the adrenaline gets pumping, and I believe it also helps break the monotony of everyday politeness, which can be pretty tedious at times.
As soon as I left the building, Julie sent me a message telling me that she had left the funeral and was still alive and was returning to Kingswinford with her parents. The idea was to meet at Wetherspoon’s for coffee and possibly lunch.
I arrived first; it was only a short walk from the building society. My adrenaline was still pumping, so I popped into the estate agents to quickly ask about letting a small, all-flat house. The lady kindly put me on a mailing list for future possible options.
I was surprised that Wetherspoons was full on a Tuesday lunchtime; it was challenging to find a decent table that was also clean. While I was waiting for Julie, I bought some more cryptocurrency, checked my emails, and then my beautiful, perfect little woman arrived, all in black.
She wanted to change tables, obviously, and instead of just having a coffee, we decided to stay for lunch. We chatted, kissed, and sent the food back because the peas were stone cold, but everything else was good.
We were together and both happy for that. Julie bought the coffee afterwards, and we left after two hours at Wetherspoon’s. I wanted Julie back to her home, and I walked back to mine.
It was very nice, with unexpected events, including the arguments in the building society, and having lunch that wasn’t really pre-arranged, but was enjoyable nonetheless. Just breaking the monotony is also very pleasant, and being with someone you enjoy being with makes it even more enjoyable.
I later returned and gave classes, working for the rest of the day and evening. A nice day again.
In bed by 11:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
