Of course, you probably already KNOW, what I’m talking about.
First though, there was this.
OMERS? What? Are they going to gimme money??
Doubt that like hell. I can’t collect too danged much from those guys until I’m sixty. Well, I think I could have started to receive a pension at 55, but it was something like a dollar ninety-five a month. Give or take. Can’t buy a pack of smokes for that. Probably a good thing I don’t smoke.
My next thought was, “How the heck did they get my address?” That fine upstanding person whom I was in communication with at my previous employer must have forwarded it. Son of a …
Now why would she do that, when we can receive all the mail in the world at our address in Canada? Plus, now I’ll have to contact these people whenever we DO move. *sigh*.
Besides, it turns out it’s just junk mail. Well, it’s their “report”. But I could read that on line.
Why didn’t she just give them my email address, and then at least I could have just hit “delete” OR, if it was some sort of document worth keeping, I could save it as some sort of a file? Probably as one of those “Pretty Damned Frustrating” files. You know. PDF.
So that was a bit of a mailbox letdown. If you’re not getting much else, it can be a real heartbreaker. OK, not really, I just like to “go on” a little.
Thankfully my hike down to the train station yesterday was worth the effort.
For anyone who has just tuned in, there’s a multitude of shopping in the “Westbahnhof”, and I thought I’d try out the Merkur to see if there was any Miracle Whip®. Sorry, mayonnaise would never do. Gross. Gah! Couldn’t do it.
It was probably a good thing there wasn’t anyone within earshot, since I’m pretty sure I did make just a tiny little gasping sound when I rounded the corner and saw this:
Look at them all! Good thing I hadn’t had my shower for the day, since I’m reasonably certain I pooped just tiny bit.
But, never fear. I was calm, *puts on glasses* since I thought I’d better take a little look at the expiry dates on them things.
Good until November! Hey, we don’t have to move yet! That’s a relief!
But, how many to take? So hard to decide.
Don’t want to go too crazy here, so I’ll only buy three.
And you thought maybe I was jerking your chain when it came to the spelling? Nope. Mind you, like Bea said yesterday, they should have used a “k” instead of a “c”. Sometimes I wonder. I see too much mixing up of the languages these days. Just stick with one or the other.
Not as bad as in Japan I suppose.
Looking down Mariahilferstraße yesterday afternoon. It was a nice day for a walk.
I haven’t taken any pictures TODAY, since the weather has taken a wee bit of a turn for the worse. Kind of cool, rainy and gusty. Has to happen I suppose, or we won’t have any crops later.
You may be wondering what happened with the bank card fiasco? Well, not too danged much. The Branch Manager didn’t call me, in spite of her saying she’d call “either way”. Of course, that to me is only another example of them living up to my expectations. My expectations are pretty low. I tried the card again this morning, and it’s “invalid”. Looks like we’ll be transferring money from Scotiabank to Bank Austria. Bleah!
And that reminds me of a cute little story. Pull up a chair.
As some of us tend to do when we get a little long in the tooth, we try to set aside a couple shekels in a sock drawer as best we can. However, a few years back, Travelling Companion and I started to get a little frustrated with having so many sock drawers on the go, so to speak, and upon the recommendation of a young lad I used to sail with, we decided to enlist the services of his “guy”. Now, admittedly this “guy” likes to sell his funds and such, but he’ll pretty much do whatever we ask. AND, truth be told, since I do have a certain amount of time on my hands, I would venture to say that my knowledge of (for example) dividend producing stocks is, by this point in the game, vastly superior to his. I mean, I only have T.C. and I to look after, he’s got a whole heap of clients. I’ll give him that much.
So we met up with this “guy”, went over a couple things, and then over the course of the next month or so began transferring our meagre shekels into a set of accounts where we could keep tabs on things. Much easier for the dithering old folks, don’t you know.
I’m not sure exactly when it was, maybe a couple months after that, but on a Monday (I remember it was a Monday) I came home from work and there had been a phone call, with a message from the bank! Oh, please contact us! It was some guy named Tony, or something. I had never heard of him, and it wasn’t from the local branch.
“Strange”, I thought, since everything seemed fine, but I called him back, only to get his voice mail. Oh, and I left him my cell number, just in case.
So, WEDNESDAY this guy calls me back. (By this point I had forgotten about this chimp)
“Oh” sez Tony, “We see that you’ve been moving your money out. Is there a problem?”
Well, not any more.
Now, not that it was any of this twits business, but I went on to explain to him about how we now felt the need of a “guy” to help us sort out our investments. Oh wait, I mean shekels from our sock drawer. Whatever.
He didn’t think that was a good idea! (Well, of course he wouldn’t, but it’s not his money, now is it?)
And here, edited for clarity, is pretty much what I said to him:
“Well, the thing is, you’re idea of ‘service’ and my idea of ‘service’ don’t seem to be anywhere close to being the same. You think it’s going to “cost” me to deal with this “guy”? Well, it’s costing me to deal with you people. We won’t even get into what it has cost us so far due to the lousy returns that you’ve provided up until now. Let’s not even talk about your lousy service.
Mostly though, here’s the thing. You called Monday. I called you back. What day is it?”
*silence on the other end*
“Right. See, if at say, seven in the morning, I have some idea or other and decide to call my “guy”, even though I know he’s not at his office until nine, you know what happens? At about 9:05 a.m., after he’s had a chance to pour himself a coffee and hang up his jacket, HE CALLS ME BACK! It’s the same day! What a concept!”
I think he “got it”.
I didn’t yell, but I didn’t mince any words either. Stupid little sh*t. We didn’t hear from “Tony” again.
So, Branch Manager Lady not calling me back? Just another little strike against them. We won’t be dealing with Scotiabank for too much longer I’m afraid. It’s a bit of a pain to change banks, but it’s going to be time to completely sever the ties as soon as we can. Can’t say when that’s going to be, since it’s heaps easier if we’re actually in the country. And this isn’t just recent either. It’s a “slow burn” that goes way back to when we lived in Puerto Rico.
Actually no, wait! Before that, when T.C. was living in Horseheads, N.Y. and I’d have to transfer money to our account in the Chemung Canal Trust Company, and the tellers didn’t know how to do it. Got so that I’d take the forms home with me, fill one out, bring it in, tell the dummy behind the counter where to put in the amount and the exchange, sign it, and do the transfer. Um ya, they were that stupid.
And no, I’m not looking for a job as a bank teller.
That’s about it for today’s blather.
Keep those pencils sharp. I think some folks are doing something called, “taxes”? What’s that?
Thanks for coming by.