Senior Service...

Today, Scrobs joins the Senior Service!


Noooh, not going to sea, not that one, but the one where I've reached the day when by all accounts, I could retire and say to Mrs Scrobs that I was taking up growing roses, and buying a new pipe and slippers! It's not really like that, because as everyone knows, I will stop work when I'm 103, but I'd like to put in a good word for the Pension Service.


It took one phone call of about ten minutes to arrange everything,  They were splendid! They had everything they needed on a screen to unravel a lifetime of my work, gave reasons why my pension would be smaller, or larger at sixty-five, and it was all confirmed in writing in seven days!


So, here's a new one - kick the banks into touch, and give the money wasted on their balance sheets to the guys and gals Up North!


You'd get to talk to people on normal salaries, not eye-watering bonuses, they'd understand the public, not rip them off, they'd abide by strict rules, not flout them, they'd have a code of conduct far superior to those in big shiny Canary Wharf offices, and they'd be out of the tainted reach of meddling politicians!


That would solve the nation's woes at a stroke, and even maybe, I'd be able to retire a few days before that 103rd birthday...


Seeing the Grandchildren today, loads of cards to open, and a few tinctures as well!


Marvellous!


Update...
Talking to BP just now, he told me that he'd experienced exactly the same courtesy and friendly professional attitude, when he had to go through his affairs with The Pension Service in Motherwell! He said that he'd also heard similar stories from others as well, so perhaps I'm getting nearer to solving the woes of UK Inc than I thought...