What a Morning.
If you'd have popped into my bank this morning you'd have seen quite an upset mom doing laps round the queuing podiums in an effort to keep her toddler in the pushchair happy.
In fairness to The Kid, he was actually quiet and happy for the first twenty minutes (yes twenty minutes) we were in the branch.
I suspect I may have looked stressed, but this is how it is for women who go about their daily lives with a pushchair in tow and the most simple of things don't go according to plan.
All I wanted to do this morning was close my account. That's all. Not get a loan or a mortgage or the manager's first born child, not that you'd have thought that judging by the amount of time I was there.
It's not just a case of writing a letter as it is with some banks. I went to the counter and said I'd written last week to close my account. I was subsequently led to a phone in the middle of the foyer, where the man dialled head office, handed me the phone, and left me to wait till an adviser became available.
Imagine, sitting, in the middle of a bank, toddler in tow, waiting, waiting, waiting to speak to someone so you can repeat all the information you gave them last week. It's all a very long story, but the next three parts of an hour were spent dashing between the phone, the counter and the cash point outside.
I was so annoyed. I wish I could say that I articulated my dissatisfaction in a polite, effective and eloquent manner. What I actually did, was cry.
Not floods of tears or an hysterical outburst, just a quick snivel but enough to make me feel like a ridiculous, silly woman. I dread to think what the counter staff must have thought.
It was stupid, and embarrassing, but at the slightest sign of tears the whole thing was sorted within three minutes flat. The man I'd spoken to originally immediately called head office from behind the counter, got straight through and closed the account there and then.
This in some way made it worse. The fact I had to jump through the usual, pointless, bureaucratic hoops while I so obviously had a small child, and while there was a perfectly easy way of doing things annoys me greatly.
The fact I had The Kid with me made it a thousand times worse, but actually, it shouldn't matter whether there are children there are not.
If there is a simple way of doing things, why can't things be done in a simple way?
Oh, and if anyone's keeping track, I'm not feeling quite so broody anymore!
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Emma Deadman - is a first-time mum-to-be. She gives her take on life... from bump to beyond.
