But I'll also feel sorry for all those people tarnished with the brush, when all they are doing is working on the front line trying to give the best service they can. Here's an excerpt from The Northern Line to Shropshire that explains what I mean:
Ever since we moved to Shifnal we've been impressed by the Barclays Bank in the middle of town. It has an old-fashioned feel to it. You know, one where you talk to a real person. And they actually do what you want.
Unlike in Tooting, there isn't someone controlling the queue, saying why don't you try our fantastic self-service option, or suggesting you bank on-line, or otherwise advertising themselves out of a job. Just people waiting, chatting. I watched one of the cashiers, Natalie. She greeted her last six customers by name before they'd even reached the counter, saying something like: “Hallo Mr Twynam, I haven't seen you in a while”. There was a slight problem so she said she'd call me when it was sorted, and an hour later she did.
No doubt by the time this book is published the bank will have closed down.