I just got a letter from the bank, telling me off for not having used my credit card much lately!
Well I didn’t get it just now actually because it was Sunday today and there was no post. In fact it arrived two days ago but I don’t like to open these types of letters straightaway. Well I don’t like opening them full-stop so I leave them by the door at first for a few days and give them a few good kicks on my way in and out. Then gradually, bruised and battered, they make their way through to the living room where they will stay for another few days, perhaps spending a couple of nights in the fruit bowl, in the company of a lively banana and a shrivelled up passion-fruit and another night on top of the stereo and so on and so forth until I finally get sick of the sight of them and decide to get them opened.
This time though, my letter only stayed unopened for two days since I was cleaning up the flat for the arrival of Mr and Mrs ddoi that are finally arriving tomorrow, yay.
And so there I was in the middle of my cleaning, suddenly being told off by a woman called Suzanne Johnson from the bank who was ‘concerned’ because and I quote, ‘We have noticed that you have not used your credit card in a while.’
I must say Suzanne Johnson knew what she was doing. At first she made me feel totally guilty for neglecting my poor little credit card. Then on the second page of the letter she made me feel alive and hopeful by showing me all these new and fun things that my credit card and I could do together. By the middle of the third page, I was suddenly overcome with an uncontrollable urge to go and dig up my credit card, run out into the street, jump in the first open shop I could find and buy all that was in there.
Luckily it’s Sunday night and all the shops are shut and even more luckily, I seem to have lost my credit card!
Seriously though, shouldn’t they be congratulating me for being a sensible person and not spending the money that is not even mine instead of making me read patronising three page letters with the sole objective of proving that I’m an idiot?