Bonkers bankers

I got a call from my bank this evening. At about half past eight. That's rude, quite frankly, but I suppose they thought I might be in. It was a customer satisfaction survey. I don't get the point of these myself, but I'm sure they tell the bank all sorts of fascinating things. Who knows?

Anyway, at one point they asked me to quantify, on a scale of 0 to 100, exactly how warm I feel my relationship with the bank is. How warm? I'm sorry, what was that? It's a bank, a financial institution. You're not meant to feel all warm and fuzzy about your relationship. They take the money, they hold the money, they give the money back when you ask for it. That is the entirety of the relationship I need to have with my bank.

I don't want it to take me down the pub once in a while and ask very earnest questions about my well-being over a rapidly warming pint. This is a service my bank does not need to provide. That is, in fact, what friends (and more importantly, wives) are for. I cannot take my bank to the cinema and then rave on about the film afterwards. I cannot laugh as my bank misses a really easy pool shot in the pub. I cannot, indeed, cheer in celebration with my bank as our favourite generic sports team wins again. These are things I cannot do with my bank.

My relationship with my bank, therefore, does not need to be ranked on a scale of 0 to 100 for warmth. It is a ridiculous concept which has no place in a serious satisfaction survey. Of course, me being me, I didn't tell the nice lady on the other end of the line that. I said "about 60", and then beat myself up for furnishing them with an answer.