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: No

Him: Oh.

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

Him: Goodbye

I wonder what he wanted?


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