There was a time quite recently,
My NatWest bank seemed good to me.
Currency, a simple task,
"Euros please," I'd go and ask.
Five hundred pounds' worth would not faze,
Yes truly they were happy days.
I went for euros yesterday.
The special desk had gone away.
The information lady knew,
"They're at the tills:
You'll have to queue."
I did as asked, but to my sorrow,
"None today - and none tomorrow."
My euros thus remained unbought,
But surely someone could have thought
To mention this to information,
So sparing part of my frustration.
Plus something simple, that's for sure,
If stocks run low, THEN ORDER MORE!
(I wandered then to M&S,
And got them there - plus more for less.)
My credit card was shiny gold,
It wasn't tatty, wasn't old.
A new one came, it's navy blue.
My debit card's that colour, too.
By "which is which?" my life's now blighted.
(How fare the old and dodgy-sighted?)
Three times now I've made a hash,
When I've tried to draw some cash.
With bit of plastic went equipped..
Into the slot, it smoothly slipped...
I keyed the normal numbers in...
Machine would not accept my PIN.
I gave the screen a double-take,
Then recognized my sad mistake.
The credit card a charge incurred:
My comments shall remain unheard...