Monday, 29 March 2010
ISA ISA Baby
It happens to us all. We have all made fools of ourselves for love. Carol has fancied Derek for 2years, 5 months, 14 days, 17 hours and 305 minutes. And everybody knows it. They work shoulder to shoulder at Halifax radio in the basement of an NCP car park in Buttocks Booth just off Lumbertubs Lane. As Derek waxes lyrical about his sublime hedge fun and the operational efficiency of his assets, Carol finds complementary songs from iTunes on her laptop. Derek talks about pension plans and Carol plays When I’m 94. Derek talks about his back-end load. Carol plays Dark Side of the Moon. Derek talks about ISAs. Carol, now fully inspired, plays Ice Ice Baby and looks tenderly at Derek. At work they are a team, partners between the balance sheets, keeping customers entertained with witty banter and double entry bookkeeping.
But alas, Carol’s emotional capital is not reciprocated. Derek is saving himself for Scottish widow Sandy, who works in the canteen buttering baps and making tea. She is elegant, likes long walks in the countryside, knows a fair bit about air-sea rescue, can play French tangos on the accordian and wears a jolly nice black velvet hooded cape. She is a far better prospect all round. Derek is hoping that Sandy will be agreeable to his large deposit and generous investment as she promises good bonus and isn’t adverse to sudden withdrawal. In Carol, sadly, he is interest free.