At The Bank

(The reasons am not allowing comments is spam, spam, spam…so if you have a burning comment, email me on This should only be temporary)

This time, I was not in a bad mood as I walked into the banking hall. It doesn’t matter that the fat-man-with-trousers-worn-in-the-middle-of-the-stomach told me to march to my branch if I needed service. It also does not matter that he said it this way, “Hapa ni Nairobi? Hapana!” What’s the point of networks and ICT? He also asked me, “Why?” When I told him I forgot my ATM PIN. Why? I forgot because I forgot. That’s why. I ignored him and made for the ATM Queue to make sure. The image he invoked in my head is that of an orange with sticks for hands and feet. The orange guy is the one who makes sure every farmer gets in the right queue.

I did get inspiration on how to proceed with this post that has been in my head for a week now. I did not get on a queue because the lady at the ATM counter ignored my question, and I went to enquire at the reception, something I should have done in the first place. The reception guy told me to go upstairs to get the new pin.

Yeah, I said it right. I forgot my PIN number. You see, after a long struggle replacing my ATM card, I was so happy I went and withdrew all my money. After reading the letter that comes with the card and the PIN number, I took their advice to the letter, something I never do in any situation. I memorized the PIN, then tore up everything else apart from the card to small tiny pieces (am a walking shredder) then stuffed it into the dustbin. If I had matches, I might have lit it. A month later, my memory is blank. I wish I had kept that envelope.

So am finally upstairs at the PIN collection center. The lady, after a long bathroom break ( I couldn’t come up with a good reason why we waited for a whole 10 minutes watching a blank desk), and a lengthy chat in vernacular with a customer, finally turned to me. I told her I needed a new PIN. She told me they had stopped that service, now all I could do was to replace the card. I can’t believe starting the whole process all over again. I’m going to have to withdraw over the counter, again! What an inconvenience.

On my way out, I decided to confirm what she had told me. I asked the reception guy if there was really no way around it. Why did he send me upstairs to be told that, why not say so in the first place?

I walked out of the bank one unhappy customer. I wonder if there is someone who genuinely loves banks. I hate them, and if I could keep my money under the mattress and teleport it with my mind to wherever I need it, I would.

Remember this was about inspiration for a post in my head?

Post coming right up.


One Response

  1. […] have many musings in matatus and in banks about Nairobi and its […]

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