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Welcome to the Recovery Room - Real Life HumourBack to Humour | Back to The Retreat This is an actual letter sent to a Bank in the US. The bank thought it amusing enough to publish it in the New York Times. Dear Sir: I am writing to thank you for bouncing the cheque with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations some three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque, and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account with $50 by way of penalty for the inconvenience I caused your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. You have set me on the path of fiscal righteousness. No more will our relationship be blighted by these unpleasant incidents, for I am restructuring my affairs in 2000, taking as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very bank. I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and proud to hear it. To this end, please be advised about the following: First, I have noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you I am confronted by the impersonal, ever-changing, prerecorded, faceless entity, which your bank has become. From now on I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh and blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee of your branch, whom you must nominate. You will be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status, which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Justice of the Peace,and that the mandatory details of his/her financial situation income, debts, assets and liabilities must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number, which he/she must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modelled it on the number of button presses required to access my account balance on your phone bank service. Let me level the playing field even further by introducing you to my new telephone system, which you will notice, is very much like yours. My Authorised Contact at your bank, the only person with whom I will have any dealings, may call me at any time and will be answered by an automated voice. By pressing Buttons on the phone, he/she will be guided through an extensive set of menus:
The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may on occasion involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration. This month I've chosen a refrain from The Best Of Woody Guthrie:
On a more serious note, we come to the matter of cost. As your bank has often pointed out, the ongoing drive for greater efficiency comes at a cost -- a cost that you have always been quick to pass on to me. Let me repay your kindness by passing some costs back. First, there is the matter of advertising material you send me. This I will read for a fee of $20/page. Enquires from your nominated contact will be billed at $5 per minute of my time spent in response. Any debits to my account, as, for example, in the matter of the penalty for the dishonoured cheque, will be passed back to you. My new phone service runs at 75 cents a minute (even Woody Guthrie doesn't come free), so you would be well advised to keep your enquiries brief and to the point. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. Your humble client, The Gospel according to the Intolerant. 9 Irritations in Life 1. People who point at their wrist while asking for the time. I know where my watch is pal, where the **** is yours? Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the toilet is?
These are from a book called Disorder in the Court, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters - who had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place. Q: Are you sexually active?
Q: What is your date of birth?
Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?
Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that morning?
Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo or the occult?
Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning? Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he? Q: Were you present when your picture was taken? Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
Q: She had three children, right?
Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
Q: Can you describe the individual?
Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample? Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
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