I get pretty annoyed at the amount of junk mail that finds its way into my mailbox ... I'm talking here about the mailbox out the front of the house, not the spam-filled bunch of crap that is the inbox from the interweb thing that seems to rule (or tries to) our lives. Most of the junk mail is straight into the recycling bin, although some, if they are addressed properly, get a cursory read just in case before being consigned to the bin.
Yesterday, there was a letter from the ANZ bank. I wasn't expecting anything from the ANZ, I don't have an account there ... perhaps, I thought, it was offering to do something for me. Yeah, that'd be it, of course, a bank wanting to do something for a customer, other that is than bleeding money from them at every opportunity, ripping off every cent, treating them like shit.
So I opened it to have a read and I noted that it was addressed to
Yeah, good on ya. Both names wrong and you're asking me to do business with you. Seriously? What chance that the ANZ would get other things wrong, especially if it can't get names right.
To Steve Rubenstein, who made it his personal business to invite me to do business, shove it up your clacker, mate.
All you did was give me another reason to hate banks and their blood-sucking parasitical approach to people.
Oh, Steve, I did spell your name right. Pity your company didn't afford me the same courtesy, but then again, banks don't care about people, do they?
ME IN A NUTSHELL
- G’day, I’m Michael and I have two fantastic grown-up kids. I’m a jeans and singlet/T-shirt, cowboy boot, tattoos sort of fella, who knows a bit about this and sometimes a lot about that. I'll have a crack at most things, although having a relationship? ... well that ship has sailed. I'm past my use-by date anyway, so I'm gonna make it all about me and surviving life as I know it ... or make it.