Monday 23 July 2018

Shiny New Bank

I wrote this poem when a local bank was refurbished. People were very curious while the work was undertaken and hoped for a bank providing an improved service in a modern environment.
The disappointment when it re-opened was crushing. The interior resembled the flight deck of the Starship Enterprise and there was only one service counter. The staff that previously had been tellers were redeployed to explain to those customers without a degree in Computer Science, how to enjoy the amazing new experience of doing their own transactions.
I went in on a Saturday morning when the system had crashed and the only option for customers was to besiege the poor teller manning the 'International Only' counter, who was pretty pissed off.
Sometimes progress is not progress.


 Shiny New Bank


I guess it’s progress and technology
I should thank
For this refurbished, shiny
And soulless new Bank
Not a teller to be seen
Just a daunting collection
Of uninviting, unfriendly 
Computer screens.
Customers walk in
But they don't know what to do
How do you form a queue
For machines that don't acknowledge you,
But when your turn comes
Everyone is watching
Waiting for a mistake
You're certain to look a fool,
So it's pointless trying to be cool
Those distressed electronic beeps
Will draw heaps of unwanted ridicule.
OK so HQ want less staff...
More money for the bonus pool
But the day I went in
There was chaos and confusion everywhere
The computers were having the last laugh
They were almost human 
And had learnt the trick
That when it's Saturday morning...
You ring in sick.

Copyright © Peter Wheeler 2016


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This poem is one of 65 from my new collection entitled

'A Message to Father Time'


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