I was walking through the City the other evening, staring up through the illuminated second floor windows at the screensavers which starred back down at me. I felt like a modern day Dick Whittington (minus the cat) scoping out where I would one day make my fortune. What would I have on those three monitors which adorned my desk? Facebook on one, then some Solitaire and 4od probably. Passing the entrance to a corporation of presumably Greco-Scottish bankers, you cannot help but marvel at the two huge sculpted torsos which overlook the spotless reception desk. What a way to live your life, every detail so polished and grandiose. This little pocket of London is actually bearable, I didn't even get mugged or anything.
It didn't take long for me to realise that this Mr. Muscled charade was all a bit OTT. Just think about it for a moment. For a start the bank in question is currently in the process of streamlining their operation to the tune of three thousand people or so. In my twenty two years of glorious life I don't think I have ever met that many people. I bet they'll all feel absolutely great when they descend that faithful escalator for the last time, box of tricks in hand and out of the front door past the two rocky Greek chaps who seem to have shed their limbs. Who are these guys really impressing? Sure, if I was born 700 years before Jesus and my name was Oedipus I'd probably think that they were really quite something and surely the most worthy people in which to invest my hard earned cash but I wasn't and I'm not. I have nothing against a good torso, and they are quite good, but they are wholly unnecessary, get rid of them.
Stick them on eBay or sell them to a Sheik with more money than sense (and faux Greek ornaments).
It's not just, it's the whole City. I don't totally get why there still is a 'City', there is absolutely no need for all of the banks to be standing shoulder to shoulder, it's hardly as if they are going to pop next door to borrow a cup of sugar now is it? Now everybody's using fax machines and pagers surely the banks could operate from anywhere. I thought they were meant to be the investors, buying low and selling high. Nobody will argue there isn't anywhere cheaper than the north, a nice cheap office block in Scunthorpe would surely suffice, or just get a glitzy new tower block commissioned for nine shillings or whatever currency they use in up there. The City have got their priorities all wrong... and so have you.
In these turbulent times banking is certainly not the career which we should be looking for, not when the banks are going down quicker than the Titanic. Never fear, I have the answer. It's been staring us all in the face the whole time, you probably hear about it every day. It's not a long term thing but just perfect for the blips on the radar we call recession. Bailiffs! That's right, a cheeky two year stop-gap in the form of bailiffry. According to the newspapers everybody's home will have been repossessed within the next six months and somebody has to be doing the repossessing. In every bad situation there is always some winner and this time it's the bailiffs. I bet they're laughing all the way to the Irish banks right now.
Come to think about it, if our Highland friends had only had a bailiff wing they could have saved themselves a whole lot of bother. In the good times it'd hardly be staffed, just have a few members floating around polishing the mahogany. When hard times lay ahead, they've accidently gone and subprimed themselves up to the hilt again; instead of having to make the population of Aberdeen redundant simply transfer a gaggle of staff to the Bailiff department. Financial crisis, solved!