Baahhh! Gaahh! Muthagunkagimynafuckinahhhfuck!
Screw you AMP!
Today was going to be my magic money day - albiet four days too late, but noooooo - I have to fill out the 2583893.9 Do you really want a chequebook? Really? form and wait seven million working days for a response. Not to mention the customer service representative getting into a full argument with me over whether I could have simply asked the money to be transferred into my bank account. Yeah, great, you sure gave me (0) information on that.
But don't worry. My friends at Westpac understand me. They love me, not like those AMP bastards. The Westpac customer service operators care about my petty I-don't-understand-the-money-where-is-my-beer issue and go "Yes, yes Oh dear" in their seductive hot 20-22yr old supermodel tones even though they're probably sucidal middle-aged office life-forms. You are going to get 6 out of 5 next time I give you a rating on the upteenth phone survey. And yes, I WILL get life-insurance from you, and whats that? Insurance FOR life insurance? Now that sound smart! Tell me, where do I insert my money and how much beer comes out of it?
If I am going to be screwed around by a big bank or financial insititution, I want them to be all nice and lovely about it. I am a consumer, a temporary storage unit for their money and the password is "Oh dear, well, I fix THAT right away" instead of 'Well, if you were around in 650bc when I told you telepathicly to request form A6509729009109 using morse code under the deepest ocean you would have had your money today and we wouldn't be having this damned conversation. In fact, I'm sick of having this damned conversation. It's bastards like you, bastards with no financial sense that make my job difficult."
"But I just wanted-"
"Does it look like I'm a care bear? Am I wearing a pink frilly dress with bells attached to my scrotum?"
"I don't know, but I-"
"Well, yes, I am. I wear dresses. I want everyone to know that. I WEAR DRESSES! AND I ENJOY MASTURBATING OVER OFFICE FURNITURE!!
"Okay...I want-"
"AND MY MUMMY NEVER LOVED ME!!! SHE NEVER LOVED ME I TELL YOU!!!! WHY DID MY MUMMY NEVER LOVE ME??????!!!!!!!!!"
"Look, if we could just get to the point - "
"THE POINT??? WHAT IS THE POINT?? I WORK A SHIT JOB! SHIT SHIT SHIT, I TELL YOU!!! ALL THAT MAKES MY DAY WORTH LIVING IS SHITTING ALL OVER YOU LOW-INCOME WHERE-IS-MY-MONEY FUCKJOBS!!!
"OKAY! OKAY! GO ON A RAMPAGE AND GET ME MY MONEY WHILE YOU'RE AT IT FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!"
"I'm sorry, rampages are not included in our policy. It's all your fault."
"JUST GET ME MY MONEY, GAWDDAMMIT! WHERE IS IT????!!!"
"Let me check in the drawer. Oh dear, I just came."
TO AMP - Train your Customer Service Reps better. And give me my money.
(Note - the real conversation was much more mundane. And even scarier.)
Today was going to be my magic money day - albiet four days too late, but noooooo - I have to fill out the 2583893.9 Do you really want a chequebook? Really? form and wait seven million working days for a response. Not to mention the customer service representative getting into a full argument with me over whether I could have simply asked the money to be transferred into my bank account. Yeah, great, you sure gave me (0) information on that.
But don't worry. My friends at Westpac understand me. They love me, not like those AMP bastards. The Westpac customer service operators care about my petty I-don't-understand-the-money-where-is-my-beer issue and go "Yes, yes Oh dear" in their seductive hot 20-22yr old supermodel tones even though they're probably sucidal middle-aged office life-forms. You are going to get 6 out of 5 next time I give you a rating on the upteenth phone survey. And yes, I WILL get life-insurance from you, and whats that? Insurance FOR life insurance? Now that sound smart! Tell me, where do I insert my money and how much beer comes out of it?
If I am going to be screwed around by a big bank or financial insititution, I want them to be all nice and lovely about it. I am a consumer, a temporary storage unit for their money and the password is "Oh dear, well, I fix THAT right away" instead of 'Well, if you were around in 650bc when I told you telepathicly to request form A6509729009109 using morse code under the deepest ocean you would have had your money today and we wouldn't be having this damned conversation. In fact, I'm sick of having this damned conversation. It's bastards like you, bastards with no financial sense that make my job difficult."
"But I just wanted-"
"Does it look like I'm a care bear? Am I wearing a pink frilly dress with bells attached to my scrotum?"
"I don't know, but I-"
"Well, yes, I am. I wear dresses. I want everyone to know that. I WEAR DRESSES! AND I ENJOY MASTURBATING OVER OFFICE FURNITURE!!
"Okay...I want-"
"AND MY MUMMY NEVER LOVED ME!!! SHE NEVER LOVED ME I TELL YOU!!!! WHY DID MY MUMMY NEVER LOVE ME??????!!!!!!!!!"
"Look, if we could just get to the point - "
"THE POINT??? WHAT IS THE POINT?? I WORK A SHIT JOB! SHIT SHIT SHIT, I TELL YOU!!! ALL THAT MAKES MY DAY WORTH LIVING IS SHITTING ALL OVER YOU LOW-INCOME WHERE-IS-MY-MONEY FUCKJOBS!!!
"OKAY! OKAY! GO ON A RAMPAGE AND GET ME MY MONEY WHILE YOU'RE AT IT FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!"
"I'm sorry, rampages are not included in our policy. It's all your fault."
"JUST GET ME MY MONEY, GAWDDAMMIT! WHERE IS IT????!!!"
"Let me check in the drawer. Oh dear, I just came."
TO AMP - Train your Customer Service Reps better. And give me my money.
(Note - the real conversation was much more mundane. And even scarier.)