Certains banquiers sont de gros FEIGNANTS et sont du côté des voleurs (les joies d'une carte "CB")

Ben tiens... Encore une arnaque de plus en notre bon royaume de France.

Celle-là ne m'est pas arrivée à moi, mais je me coltine la paperasse et j'ai l'impression que mon banquier et mon conseiller moitié me prenne pour une buse, moitié sont NULS à pleurer.

Pour faire dans le court, la famille a été victime d'un vol sur Internet (produit commandé jamais livré). 

Le problème a été immédiatement signalé.

La commande à "ABC" a été payée à "JKL".

On demande le "chargeback"/rétrofacturation - comme indiqué sur les sites du gouvernement - sauf que le truc est passé par CB (carte bancaire), pas par VISA ou Mastercard et donc, c'est un "litige commercial" et débrouillez-vous avec le vendeur voleur.

Il existe des textes de loi qui sont censés nous protéger, mais les cartes co-badgées CB (la quasi totalité des cartes en France parce que... y'a pas l'choix) suivent leur propres règles. 'Faut dire que c'est compliqué de suivre un paiement électronique (le gars à la tête de l'agence où il y a eu le problème ne comprend pas comment ça marche ! Je ne plaisante pas. Hélas !).

Chez VISA ou Mastercard, le chargeback serait en route depuis belle lurette pour non respect des directives européennes. 

Chez CB, c'est : "on s'en tape et ne nous dérangez pas avec vos problèmes".

Donc : 

- problème tout de suite signalé. On bloque l'opération ? Ah, non, il faut payer le voleur.

- on peut faire revenir l'argent volé ? Ah, non, c'est un litige commercial qui ne regarde pas la banque.

Et ça vous est dit, sans broncher, par des gros BALTRINGUES qui jouent régulièrement au poker avec des milliards, se font aider par nos politôcards (donc avec NOS sous !) et ne font strictement rien en cas de problème.

Je fatigue. Grave.

Nasty Week

There's nothing tragic or final, but my stress-o-meter went up a notch this week.

I know it's for silly reasons, but when you're fighting PTSD, a grain of sand can feel like a boulder.

There are three things that bugged me:

1) My bank:

A few months ago, they'd tried to make me pay a fee for a service that I've had for years. I told them I was refusing to pay their fee because it wasn't in my initial contract and I got my money back.

End of story?

Of course not. 

The fee was back this week, so I had to contact my bank again, but, this time, I was told that I must trade the service I had for something else, or I must pay the fee. I caved and agreed to have the new service (because I've got better things to do than fight them on this), but I demanded my money back. I'm still waiting - and it bugs me.

2) Twitter (and Fox):

The way things trend there are too cryptic for my taste. I did some research, and the way they (try to) explain their algorithm is messy. I can understand that the name of a singer with too many overenthusiastic fanatics is not trending worldwide day in, day out, but a brand new hashtag to try and save a TV show disappearing after a day whilst I can see new people still tweeting about it... I find it odd, to say the least - all the more since another hashtag to try and save another show was still trending two days after it started (I'm talking about #SaveLucifer and #SaveB99).

I'm bugged because one of the things I use to control my stress is good shows, and I fell in love with Lucifer; it's well-written, consistent (a bloody miracle on American telly, where shows tend to not always follow the story's bible), intelligent, fun, and entertaining. Fox deciding to pull the plug on it shows their stupidity (then again, I was always surprised that they produced a series where Lucifer's the hero).

3) Twitter (and a lying, fascist politico):

This morning, I saw a retweet with comment where the initial tweet shows a politico who'd just angled a small shark.

I briefly considered reporting the tweet, but didn't:

a) even though I do believe that the shark is way more useful than the biped holding it on a ship's deck, what the biped did is not illegal (immoral, yes).

b) since the politico is a big name (Merlin know why, coz he's a deplorable waste of skin), I knew that Twitter would do flurch all because of their "it's newsworthy" smokescreen (either they approve, or they're just spineless).

I think I'm going to turn these into plot bunnies. After all, this is another trick I use to control my stress.

Flurching Strike Update

I ended up completely changing my plans (it turned out that a neighbour could drive me towards home), but... I'd forgotten about road trips:

- it takes a *lot* more time

- you can't stretch your legs whenever you want

- you can't go to sleep or just avoid chatting with the other passengers

I'm not ungrateful (she saved my bacon!). It's a lot different and I'd need "car training" to get used to the differences again - that's all.

Well, I am home, and I can work on finding a bank with my cousin for our publishing company (@EditionsAikyo by the way) ... and I can play with the plot bunnies as much as I want (YAY!!!!!).

Censorship in the 21st Century

Long time no post, but the summer's properly demented, and some of us have Internet woes (and Usagi's still in Kyoto). Basically, reduced team is no fun...

We've made a choice about Racine's Phedre et Hyppolyte: we'll have the original spelling and typography, and a modern version (just the old one could be fun, but it'd be really tough without a more modern one on the right page).

We're still working on Wilde's Salomé, but we're taking our time to make sure that we'll give you a nice translation - and a bilingual introduction.

When I have some free time, I work on the fourth novel in my Sci-Fi universe (the current news are feeding the plot bunny in a rather dark way).

Then... bank news to be able to launch our website.

So... we've found a bank, but because of an annoying technicality, we can only open the account in September (sometime in September).

But what's utterly frustrating is that Cousin Chris had managed to open an account for us at her main bank. She'd had to go through artificial hoops to please the arrogant plonkers, but we had an account... until we asked for the reference that would allow us to buy an e-commerce plugin so that we could safely link our website to our account.

The female that called my cousin at my aunt's (even though my cousin never gives any phone number because she does business at 2 am by e-mail - because she gets some written proof) was a proper nightmare. 

First, she claimed that she didn't have access to our file (then, how did she get my aunt's phone number, um?), and she demanded to be given the names, addresses, and e-mails of the website provider and webmaster; to quote my cousin: 'No way in friggin' Hell!!!!!'.

My cousin's plan was to get the reference, give it to the plugin company, buy the plugin, install it, buy the website, migrate our site that's on Xampp, test everything, and launch the ship.

That wasn't possible, as the phoning biped demanded to be allowed to see our website first because she wanted... to censor it!

She literally said that she had to "check our website for references to religion, sex, and drug".

Well, 95% of our books are LGBTQ-friendly (though there's nothing graphic, but with "Miss Censorship-Sunshine", we'd have ended up with an empty catalogue). And Shakespeare's potentially controversial. And Wilde's play was already censored on religious grounds - from the late 19th century, up to the 1930s!

What we miss is stuff about drugs (thanks for the plot bunny, arrogant bank biped!).

So the account was closed, because none of us (not even our accountant, who growled with us, editors and authors) were ready to accept censorship in the 21st century.

Do you know what the other bank only asked us? That the website had an SSL certificate, which we will have. Internet security is their only concern.

Right now, we're plotting all together to report the censoring biped to someone much higher than her in the food chain.

I'll have some painting to show you soon, maybe a video, and we're planning to take pictures of our paper babies to add them to the website (we'll share some with you then).

See you soon (hopefully)!

Book News & Other Nuttiness

We're still working on launching our publishing company. Everything's slow, but things are taking shape - we think (and hope!).

I'm slowly working on editing the text of the first publication of Sense and Sensibility. It's fascinating to see what was changed in the following publication.

I'm trying to find the best way to show the differences between the two versions; I "fear" it's between classical footnotes and a different colour to show what changed. Basically I'll have to print tests...

I'm also working on checking my translation of Salomé, but I'm not going to rush because I want to be proud of that work, and poor Wilde deserves a decent translation of his work (I could hire a necromancer to have a lil' chat with both Douglas and Ross to tell them what I think of their "work" - Wilde must have been heartbroken to allow Douglas's translation to be printed... with whatever amount of correction Wilde did to the "text").

Speaking of Wilde, Cousin Chris is writing the bilingual introduction for our edition of Salomé (no massive discoveries like for our Shakespeare, but interesting facts...).

We're working on Racine's Phedre et Hippolyte. This time, we don't know if we want the original fonts and spelling and a more modern one, or just the version from 1677.

I'm also working on a comedy (Merlin, that's *hard*!!!). 

I know I mentioned this somewhere in my blog, but I need the title to work on my stories, and the one I have for this play is a tad nutty. I keep thinking, 'It's for a comedy, why not have a barmy title?'...

I've just read quite a weird "review", as a reader was telling one of our authors to not portray old people in "bed". There's nothing graphic in the story, but the person was disgusted by the idea of an old man, and an old woman making love.

Merlin! That happens in real life, and I fail to understand why that person thinks that it's more disgusting to picture old people making love than younger bipeds doing it. 

Good grief! Having fun in bed happens - and if it happens after 70... Lucky bipeds!

It was demented to read something almost ordering the author to not do that again in the future. Of course, it was an anonymous review, so the author could not answer and kindly tell that person that:

A) No one is forcing "it" to read any story, and closing a browser, or a book, is always an option.

B) Writers will write whatever they want. You can read it, or not.

[Once upon a time, drunk on positive feedback, I added a chapter to a short story I had written, and... I still regret adding that chapter. The story is still good, but not as good as in its first form. That was quite a lesson.]

Silent Banker

Hello, dear Readers!

We've got a slight case of "We are not amused" going on.

Our Editor-in-chief, my (usually patient and sweet) cousin, sent the links about the (local equivalent of the) Senate and Home Office stating that she is right to our new contact at our bank (over a decade with them for both of us, and not a single problem!), and... nothing.

We do not know if he's angry about the Law lesson, if he's asking his superior what to do with the mean gal who's sending him official texts showing that the bank is ignoring the Law, or if he's doing his job and opening us an account so we can start our online activity.

Not a clue...

Since none of us is a fan of silence... I contacted another bank in the night, got an answer this morning, and handed the baby to Cousin Editor-in-chief. Now... we wait.

I'd like to officially declare here that it is exhausting to deal with people who aren't even competent at their jobs. The number of arrogant cavepeople trying to bully their way through life is quite tiring.

I'll keep you posted on our launch.

Love,

Dru

Nul n'est censé ignorer la loi

The title of this post, which basically says that all citizens are supposed to know the Law, is just a saying, as only specialists and Law professionals may know most of it - not all of it (only a Vulcan could do that!).

If people cannot know all the laws of their country of residence, it's no reason to wilfully ignore most of the laws (people should know the rights that protect them, and the limits they've got to abide by).

Why this legal post now?

Well... I've got Cousin Chris fuming, right next to me. You see, her main form of ID is a bit old, and she knows that she can't use it to leave the country, for example, but... the Sénat and the Ministère de l'Intérieur both declare that it is still valid to prove her identity as long as the photo looks like her (and it bloody does!). So what's the problem? Well, the bank she contacted (her bank - and mine, too! - the bank that can see everything we buy and pay, and where our money comes from) just told her that her ID's no longer valid, which is, according to the Sénat and the Ministère de l'Intérieur, not legal, as they're not above the Sénat and the Ministère de l'Intérieur.

So... banks can play with our money as if it were Monopoly money, and ignore the Law?
How delightful!

We all agree that we must NOT cave and bow to them, because that bank is ignoring the Law - and we know it, and we're going to remind them because we're looking for business partners who trust us (and those know they can trust us), not bullies who can treat us like crooks, liars, and potential thieves!

Even if we do have to go look elsewhere, and it postpones the opening of our e-bookstore, we're not going to do as the bank bullies want, and we're not going to potentially subject our lovely patrons to arrogant ignoramuses who think someone died and made them kings.

Now... I'd better go find something soothing for the team, the five of us are currently fuming like a volcano in a weird mood.

De l'incompétence et l'arrogance de la BNP

L'année dernière, j'avais claqué la porte de la BNP après de très nombreuses années chez eux à cause de leur façon absolument pathétique de "travailler".

C'était pour mon compte courant personnel, mais il était quand même question que notre compagnie ouvre un compte pro chez eux - uniquement parce que le conseiller pro vers lequel j'avais aiguillé ma cousine se montrait plus que compétent et à l'écoute de nos besoins.

Le mois dernier, nous convenons qu'il est temps d'ouvrir le compte pro et ma cousine donne ses disponibilités au gentil conseiller qui d'habitude répond par retour de courriel en un jour (deux max).

Rien.

Transfert de message avec une fusée de détresse.

Rien.

Re-transfert (étonné et inquiet).

Rien.

Re-re-transfert (là, on passe au stade "vous êtes à l'hôpital ou quoi ?").

Rien.

Comme les informaticiens de la BNP ne sont pas des flèches... Il y a peut-être un blocage du message.

Nouveau message ("nous sommes prêtes pour le lancement").

Pas de réponse.

Re-nouveau message ("vous êtes en un seul morceau ou il y a problème avec notre projet ?").

Silence radio.

Là, ma cousine décide de se la jouer Lino Ventura dans Les tontons flingueurs et elle déboule à l'agence... et alors là, un vrai festival.

Ma cousine explique qu'elle voudrait voir le conseiller XYZ à la dame de l'accueil.

Sans sourciller (et sans commentaire au sujet du récent silence de XYZ), elle propose un rendez-vous à ma cousine... pour la fin de la semaine prochaine, mais c'est un rendez-vous, hein ?

Et ben non...

Le rendez-vous serait avec Madame JKL, parce que XYZ n'est plus là (mort, viré, muté ? On ne sait toujours pas). 

Incidemment, quand j'ai récupéré ma cousine (qui aurait pu machouiller du neutronium tellement elle était furax en remontant de la banque), j'ai pu louer son instinct de survie : JKL, c'est celle qui m'avait téléphoné alors que j'avais indiqué de ne jamais m'appeler et qui n'avait jamais fait ce qu'elle m'avait promis de faire. Une vraie perle!

Vu notre statut hyper particulier, ma cousine n'était pas ravie à l'idée de tout réexpliquer à quelqu'un d'autre, mais la personne à l'accueil n'est même pas émue ("Vous n'avez pas le choix").

Et là, le coup de génie. Ma cousine explique à son interlocutrice que nous avons notre SIRET, nos preuves de domiciliation, mais nos pièces d'identité ne sont plus toutes techniquement valides et XYZ avait reconnu que la décision du Sénat s'appliquait dans notre cas ("Elle est valable dix ans, mais, même périmée, elle permet à son titulaire de justifier de son identité sur le territoire national, à condition que la photographie soit ressemblante.").

Si ma cousine avait annoncé qu'elle avait la peste, la réaction de la secrétaire n'aurait pas été plus dégoûtée, apparemment. En gros, par les temps qui courent, la BNP se doit d'être méfiante (n’empêche que ma cousine a la même tête que sur sa carte périmée - et on va vendre des livres, pas financer des débilos du Moyen-Orient).

Donc rendez-vous annulé par la secrétaire et "Allez à la mairie faire refaire votre carte" (ouaip! Sauf qu'il faut aller à la Préfecture maintenant, et uniquement sur rendez-vous).
Si c'est ça leur niveau de compétence... on a peut-être échappé au pire !

Voulez-vous une cerise sur ce joli gâteau ?

Apparemment XYZ n'est "plus là" depuis un mois - et personne n'a eu l'idée de programmer sa boite de réception afin d'envoyer un message ; un truc entre "Si vous cherchez à contacter XYZ, téléphonez à notre agence" et "XYZ n'est plus disponible, tant pis pour vous, pauvres clowns !".

J'ai ronchonné pour toute la famille hier sur Twitter. Vous croyez que quelqu'un de la BNP m'aurait contactée, histoire de régler le problème et d'avoir un nouveau client professionnel ? Non. Toujours pas émus les p'tits gars.

La secrétaire avait pris l'adresse de courriel de ma cousine. Sans doute déjà effacée et même pas transmise à JKL !

Ouaip ! Je crois que nous avons échappé au pire.

Ma pauvre cousine va se retrouver à gérer un module bancaire en plus de la gestion normale du site internet.

La BNP nous a ignoré (sans même rien savoir sur notre projet). Si par bonheur notre aventure marche, ma cousine prépare déjà sa revanche (en mode Vésuve croisé avec le Krakatoa).

Of the Incredible Arrogance of Thieving Bankers

Back to bank-land, as I momentarily took over from my poor cousin (her fangs are firmly planted in the floor, and the next time a banker tells her a lie, she might well turn into a wifwolf!).

Today, I had news from Bank#2:

the gal gave me prices (without including the VAT!), and they're expensive, and for that price:

- one must add a percentage per transaction AND a percentage according to the amount of the transaction (because we're not paying them enough per month already!)

- they want to know everything about every Jack, Jill, Bob, Bethany, and Paul who works with us (name, postal address, and phone number). Funny they're not asking about their mums' phone numbers, blood types, and tax returns!

- they can't bloody spell (so how are we supposed to believe that they can encode?)

- they don't seem to be doing much to protect us (I e-mailed the gal a long list of potentially problematic situations, and I look forward to reading how they're planning to protect us in the cyberspace!)

- it's our webmaster who's supposed to configure everything (how cute! My cousin and I are the wedmistresses!)

Honestly, I answered the gal and asked questions, but I've got a bad feeling.

I'll contact again Bank#1, and if it comes to that, since we'll be doing all the hard work, we'll buy a bank thingy for Wordpress.

The banks keep being the most frustrating part of this business launching thingy (a solid tie with the Revenue guys, though), but we can definitely see the finish/launch line now.

Nutty Update: Bank#2's gal answered me. She'd like me to phone her coz I asked too many questions by e-mail.

ô.O

Oooookay. To Bank#1...

Les "bras cassés" de la BNP

Massif ras la frange ce soir/cette nuit.

Je suis à la BNP depuis ma majorité (sans rentrer dans les détails sordides... ça fait longtemps), mais là, j'ai envie de tous les renvoyer en stage de formation.

Depuis que je suis chez eux (dans le désordre) : 

- ils ont perdu ma signature

- ils ont perdu la procuration de ma mère sur mon compte (même pas émus... "Elle n'a qu'à repasser à l'agence" - Ben oui, sauf qu'elle est à 400km maintenant !)

- ils ont crédité un chèque que j'avais déposé sur mon compte sur le compte de ma mère

- le personnel change tellement souvent que je n'ai plus affaire à la même personne deux fois de suite

- ils ont muté mon compte courant sur leur plateforme en ligne sans me prévenir (j'ai dû prendre rendez-vous avec la tête de l'agence afin de récupérer mon compte normal - je n'ai que ça à faire !)

- une stagiaire à l'accueil m'a demandé pourquoi je voulais déposer du liquide et pourquoi j'avais du liquide (on parle de quelques euros, là, pas du budget golf de l'Arabie Saoudite)

- au téléphone, certains s'acharnent à m'appeler "Mademoiselle". Alors, petit un, c'est "Madame" ou "Docteur" et petit deux, on est en 2016, les p'tits gars (il est peut-être temps de limiter le sexisme, non ?)

- j'envoie un message à ma conseillère sauf que... elle n'est plus là. Un conseiller répond à mon message et prétend avoir essayé de me téléphoner (ce qui est un gros vilain mensonge, mais... passons). Dans la foulée, une de ses collègues m'attrape au téléphone (alors que je leur avais dit de ne pas me téléphoner !) et promet de régler mon problème.

Affaire classée ?

Que nenni !

Le conseiller n'a pas répondu au message suivant que j'ai envoyé (mais il a bien accusé réception du bidule il y a quinze jours) et aujourd'hui, je découvre que sa collègue n'a pas fait ce qu'elle avait promis.

Du coup, j'ai transféré le message d'origine au conseiller timide du clavier en lui passant un savon. Oh, et en mettant en copie le conseiller professionnel avec qui je devais (dois ?) faire affaire.

En faisant quelques recherches, j'ai vu que la BNP avait fait près de 7 milliards d'euros de bénéfices en 2015 - et ils ont décidé d'imposer des frais de tenue de compte ! Multipliez 2.5€ par le nombre de pigeons clients qui sont chez eux et grognez en chœur avec moi.

Il est hors de question que je les laisse s'en tirer à si bon compte et ils ont intérêt à me présenter des excuses plates de chez Plate, parce que, là... Basta. J'ai le Vésuve qui me monte au nez.

Oh... et si le p'tit gars me téléphone et me réveille dans quelques heures, je lui passe un savon à faire pleurer jusqu'à ses arrière-grand-mères.

Les banques ne sont peut-être pas des entreprises de philanthropie, mais je n'ai pas "vache à lait" tatoué sur les fesses.

"Caue BNP!"

Publishing News (Looking for...)

Soooooooo, my sweet (mostly silent) readers... I need your help.

I'm one of the three heads in an adventure that's going to become a publishing company.

We've got authors, we've got great ideas to create unique books, the website's taking shape (my cousin and I are working on it, and it looks grrrreat), but... [of course there's a "but"...] but we need to find a bank we can trust.

Don't die with laughter just yet, please!

What we need is to find a bank willing to work with us after signing an NDA (a "non-disclosure agreement"). We're not even asking for any money!

Since we're not even on the market yet, the usual answer is "A standard contract is good enough for you. What are you afraid of?".

A- I don't trust you, Cupcake

B- No one died and made you king

C- If you blab about our secrets, we can close the shop

If some of you are bankers (one never knows) or if you know one, it'd be nice to break that damn silence and help us.

Until we're sure that we won't get stabbed in the back, we can't start our business. Heeelp!

^_~

=>

Case in Point: That Honesty Thingy

All right, this post's probably going to drip with sarcasm (a lot more than here). And there may be a few swearwords coz I'm exhausted and furious (and also why not?!)

So, we're supposed to trust bankers 'because there's a confidentiality clause in all contracts'. But of course! And they never, ever play Money Russian roulette with our hard-won cash. Nope. Never. And their websites are so tight that they're never, ever hacked by nasty people. Nope. Never. And they're all soooooo honest that they never, ever discuss the issue a customer can have just loud enough for everyone in the lobby to know that Mr X or Mrs Z are currently in a bit of a jam. Nope. Never.

If people bipeds were honest, we wouldn't have so many fishwrappers putting their noses in the lives of so many people (celebrities or not), because that need to gossip and blab would not exist, but... No... Bipeds need to open their big mouths and talk about things (whether they actually know anything on any topic or not).

It's got to be a mix of being naturally nosey and needing to feel important for one second.

I subscribed to quite a few newspapers' newsletters (probably too many because the state of the world has a slight tendency to make me growl - and wish to kick-start a few bipeds' brains with my favourite rolling pin), and just this morning, I got to read something that made my blood boil. Something that proves that most bipeds just cannot be trusted.

10:56AM: I get a 'News Alert' e-mail from The Washington Post about a possible terrorist attack in France, and in the summary included in the message, I read: 'A French security official says an attack and explosion at a gas factory in southeastern France has left one person dead. The official, who spoke on condition of anonymity because she wasn’t authorized to talk to the news media, said the dead person was found decapitated outside the entrance to the factory.'

When I clicked on the 'Read more' link, I was brought to an almost empty page. No more mention of the blabbing official.

12:41PM: I get the full newsletter from that newspaper. The first article's about that attack, but the official's unofficial statement is no longer mentioned (perhaps because more accurate and recent info have reached the journalists).

I'm very sorry (just being polite here), but the French government wasn't going to try to cover up a murder, and so the official isn't a kind of whistle-blower or whatever. We're talking about someone, who was sworn to secrecy, but who could not keep her mouth shut - be it to feel important for a moment or to deal with that urge to gossip, I don't care. That biped betrayed the trust of her fellow citizens, and of her boss - for a mention in the newspaper, which she cannot even enjoy since she was supposed to keep her bloody mouth shut.

Gossipmonger is a word that's American, but I must admit that I like it better than its British equivalent for once. Gossip/gossiper sounds like a disease, but the "-monger" part in the American form makes me think of an arrogant plonker that thinks it's got the right to talk about what the neighbours do.
That gossipmonger makes me picture someone in "Ye Olde Gossip Shoppe" trying to attract more nosey busybodies so they can chat about what the others are doing: 'Come here! Freeeeeesh gossip! Hot from the oven! I've seen nothing, but I'll tell you everything! I've got no right to judge my neighbours, but I'll tell you what kind of sinners they are according to my own perfect (and frankly, the only possible ones) values! Freeeeeeeesh gossip! For free!'

Sheesh.

Mind your business, Cupcake, and do something useful.

Oh, and when you're bound to secrecy, have a bit of respect for your own word and keep your fucking mouth shut...

And a sodding banker is expecting me to trust him?

*snorts*

Few bipeds can be trusted, and they need to be punished when they commit a betrayal (and they probably need to grow up).

Quod erat demonstrandum.

Spelling Deontology and Honesty

I find it rather arrogant that professionals tell me, 'Oh, but there's deontology. We're bound to secrecy, and you could sue us if we betrayed you. There's no need for a Confidentiality Agreement, you see.'

Yes, I see.

I see that if I were to be betrayed, I'd have to hire a solicitor to sue whoever had spilled the beans, and since the culprit would be working for a huge company with a gazillion of solicitors, I'd be - pardon my French - screwed.

I mean, we can't even trust solicitors (Chris Gossage and Judith Callegari anyone? I just can't forget about that betrayal).

And that's why Confidentiality Agreements/Non-Disclosure Agreements were invented, because if the deontology-bound biped that you were supposed to trust goes blabbing about your secrets, the signed agreement does take you to court, but the judge automatically rules in your favour. There's no escape for the traitor; he or she gets to give you money because he or she couldn't keep his or her mouth shut, and it's only fair that you get compensation for being stabbed in the back - and it's only fair to not have to fight in court and have to prove that the betrayal is having consequences on your activity.

If some bipeds were not such despicable creatures, yes, we could trust one another, but since it's obviously not the case, signed agreements are a must (sad, but true).

Needless to say, I won't work with people I don't know who ask me to trust them, but who offer no guarantee whatsoever (if you sign an NDA, and you do not blab, there's nothing to lose). 

Better safe than sorry, as my grandmother used to say.

One Angry Bunny

Yes, I'm calling myself a 'bunny'. And why not?

Things are strange these days, and being growly and angry is getting more results than being decent and kind and compassionate.
Oddly enough, as far as I can remember, characters (from books, series or films) have been a kind of inspiration, and these days, it's Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, who is my model (she's my Rory - and if you don't know Cabin Pressure, you're going to be lost... and I recommend that you binge-listen to John Finnemore's creation[s]).

Basically, I've growled at bankers, thus treating them the way they tried to treat me, and that got them to change their tune. They look like bullies, who don't have the guts to face someone standing up to them.

Then... my Muggles. I snap back at them, and I've found a couple of ways to make them feel bad and inadequate <insert a Slytherin smirk here>. That's not much, but they're all confused, and just that is rather funny - and worth the time I'm somehow wasting because of them.

Last: DIY department stores. I'm absolufuckingly done asking men anything there. Since someone (yea, a bloke) had used my lawn-mower in such a way that Tarzan (yea, that's my lawn-mower's name) needed a new air filter (ta - muchly, by the way!), I went to buy one. Incidentally, I can actually clean the original filter, but that'll take me a bit of time (since filters are so cheap, the bloke who recommended me to buy one probably thought that cleaning the old one's not worth the effort *pfft!*). I know the kind of filter I need, and whilst Mother was asking the head of the DIY section where there are lawn-mowers' accessories, I found my filter and headed back to Mother right on time to hear the DIY bloke telling her that we wouldn't find that variety of filter in his section, and that we'd have to head to another section. Since I needed something else behind him, I walked past him, and never stopping, I showed him the box and said, 'Found it!'. From the corner of my eye, I saw him freeze. That bloke's working there, for Merlin's sake! But I did a better job all alone.

When I grow up, I want to be Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. ^_~

"Stoopid" Bankers 2.0

Crikey! Today's been a festival of stupidities - at two different banks.

First, I asked my main bank what they do to protect e-clients - and even though I told the manager that I've found an activity where I won't ask them to lend me a single penny - he didn't want to answer me until I told him what I was planning to do. The thing is, I'm not telling any of these hyenas what I have in store (pun intended) until they have signed a non-disclosure agreement (I do not trust them with my very good, original idea). I gave him enough info to answer me, but His Highness wanted to know what I'm going to do. From there, in my head, that went 'Sorry, Cupcake. Drop dead; I don't need you as you're not the only bank in town.'

Then, I went to my other bank, and I wanted to deposit a lovely and crisp £20 banknote on my account (just because I don't want to have to give them money because my "piggy-bank" account isn't used enough according to them). I was then informed that branches with an open welcome desk (ruddy all of them in their new architecture!!) do not accept cash deposits as it could be dangerous for the employees.

So:

Question1: What do you do when you want to deposit cash on your account?

Answer: You go to the other side of town to the main branch. [Yea... no problem! Got nothing better to do with my time whilst there's the branch with my account right down my street. Of coooourse.]

Question2: Why did the gal at the welcome desk dare to ask me why I wanted to deposit <insert fake gasp here> cash? She wanted to know why I had cash, and where it came from.

Answer: I'm not going to finance terrorism or a drug cartel with £20, Sweetie, and if I want to transfer money from Bank #1 to Bank #2, I'll do it any way I please. I'm planning to ask the gal in charge of my account to take my banknote - if she doesn't want to do that just the once (because I'm not going to let the welcome desk gal decide what I can or cannot do. Full stop), I'll have another chat with the manager, who's a delightful lady with a brain.

It's absolutely lovely how banks and their employees want to know everything about us and to control everything - and want to tell us what they want us to do.

Dream on, Cupcake, dream on.