The business phone rang a few minutes ago – a noteworthy event in itself these days, but I digress.
I answered in my normal chirpy manner to be met with a delay and then the voice of a chap who was clearly of Indian origin. That, incidentally would be Asian Indian not Red Indian.
My heart sank as I braced myself for an irritating and protracted sales pitch for telecommunications.
Instead the chap said This is ****** Bank, is that Mrs *******?
Me: Yes it is
Him: Can you just give me your postcode to confirm I’m talking to the correct person?
Me: I’m not giving any kind of personal information out over the phone, you could be anyone. Since you phoned me you’ll have to assume I am who I say so I am so, you tell me the postcode and I’ll tell you if it’s correct. If it is I may talk to you.
Him: I can’t do that.
Me: then this conversation’s going nowhere except round in circles isn’t it?
Him: Yes, Ma-am, should I send you a letter?
Me: Yes please
I wonder what he wanted?