Hi neil! Welcome to the cellar


Just one little thing though: not all banking is free. Most banking costs at least a small amount, only the 'basic' accounts carry no charge and some building society accounts. The ATMs in the centre of town are free, as are the ATMs in the train station or the supermarket.

But the small ones attached to the shops in housing estates tend to charge £1.90 per transaction.

And there is a significant pawning industry in large towns and cities, usually run alongside a payday loan service. Old friend of mine is the manager of one in Bradford. Though they've moved up in the world in recent years and have concentrated purely on loans alongside pawned gold and silver jewellry (that's all they do now, they don't do any electricals etc).

Funily enough, that's the first time I've thought about Ash in connection with this thread lol. Bizarre. he's been at that place about 12 years :P

Oh yes, there are a few things that are ONLY sold new: sex toys, adult videos, and hair clippers.

I just saw the bit about you giving notice.

Sad as I will be for the stories to end, I'm pleased your heading out. A hair's breadth from brutality and violence is not a good place to be my friend.

Although upon further consideration, I figure some people would prefer used sex toys. Extra kinky. It would be interesting if you sold both and you could compare the popularity of of each kind.

What would be a good place to be your friend? Not trying to insinuate myself into friendship with you, just asking out of curiosity.;)

hahaha. Nice catch.

Woke up desperately sick Friday morning. I blame the ghetto: the previous day, I'd gone all day without handwashing due to the lack of a sink, as the bathroom was being remodeled.

Desperately sick meant a full reboot of my digestive system, which meant losing my stomach and intestinal contents every two hours, until nothing remained at either end.

I wound up sleeping all day Friday, all night Friday, and waking up Saturday morning feeling like... like... like I'd been sleeping, puking, and peeing out my asshole for 24 straight hours. No, there is no metaphor.

I blame the ghetto. I'd had Wawa chicken strips and mashed potatoes for dinner, but that couldn't have done it. It had to be the ghetto.

By Saturday I could start taking in nutritious food again, and get my system booted to the point where I could bathe and dress myself. J came over and nursed me with ginger ale.

In younger days I could have gone in by Monday morning, but this time when Monday morning hit, I wasn't ready. It took a full 'nother day to recover.

So the second thing I did at the shop this morning was to help a gentleman remove his earring, with the screw-on back, that I sold him about three weeks ago. This meant holding his earlobe and screwing off the back. It took about a minute to do. Co-worker Ron grimaced, and got the hand sanitizer.

At least the guy didn't smell bad. But even more bad news came 15 minutes later, that the sink that was bought for the bathroom remodel didn't fit, and thus we would not have a sink to wash in today.

Do they have dollar stores in the ghetto? Those places sell wetwipes and if you're really lucky -ones designed for hands rather than babies' bottoms. Unless you like to smell like that.

There are nothing but dollar stores in the ghetto. I might check that out, although I just figured out that I can take water from the cooler and actually wash with soap and pour it into the toilet.

I've had an HSBC current account since 1986 and I don't pay fees on it.

Of course the plastic cash machines in corner shops and lapdancing clubs charge you! But the real ones (the bank ones) don't.
I understand some people (in the ghettooooooo) might not have a bank nearby, and that is unfortunate.

A woman came in who I'd dealt with before. She put one ring in and took another one out, and when we were done she said, "I just wanted to mention, you're always such a pleasant person. I know you hear a lot of bad things, I just wanted to mention something positive."

I said that was nice of her to say. And then internally I gave myself a high-five, because that's a win as far as I'm concerned.

Part of what I've done here is to figure out how I could possibly do customer service in the ghetto.

There is the racial aspect of it: if I give a black person a happy, helpful transaction with a white guy, that's like a drop of currency in the bucket of how are we're all gonna figure out how to get along.

There is the idea that this is the right way to live: if I'm going to do business with strangers, it's kind of my duty to be generally positive. That's like a drop of currency in the bucket of negativity of the ghetto.

There is the building of a skill, just like mastering pulling the right number of bills out of the cash drawer. How do you deal with people who are crazy? How do you deal with people who are angry? But, how do you deal with people who are normal? All this is a learned skill too.

Then there is the really difficult question of how are you going to let the shop change you? In order to stay myself, I made it a crusade. I would treat people with respect when they had no self-respect. I would treat people with insistent kindness even when they don't deserve it.

I believe this is the root of charity, and means just as much as or more than monetary charity, which I don't have to give in the first place.

If it's a regular toilet, you can wash your hands in the tank.

I rather think it'd be a better world in general if everyone ascribed to this philosophy.... kudos to you for making your little corner of it a wee bit more civilized.

I love moments like that at the rehab.

Rare, all the more reason to cherish them.

And in FA.