High Finance For High People

Penury beckons, as the very long number issued to me by my bank two weeks ago turns out to differ - subtly yet crucially - from the number they're actually using to keep track of my ducats. It seems that changing that final 0 to an 8 really fucks things up. The helpful young man who I've spent most of the afternoon waving my arms at in panic seemed quite proud of the system whereby customer account numbers never differ by just one or two digits - so my paycheck hasn't been credited to some undeserving person, it has just disappered into the ether. Not only did this not reassure me very much, it makes me think that this error-detecting property has made them complacent. One manifestation of this complacency is that now their new clients are apparently only being told approximately what their account numbers are.

Perhaps it's some kind of new security system. If so, it's working perfectly: no money in, no money out. Meanwhile, it seems I am going to be drinking wine in a box and panhandling for a little while longer.