5 years ago, after having waded through the murky waters of separation, with all the feelings, difficulties and excruciatingly time consuming paperwork and legal stuff, and alongside heartfelt rear view mirror analysis, I met with my bank manager to renegotiate my mortgage. It appeared I might be able to hold on to my home.
It was an emotional meeting. Not just because money felt scarce and uncertain. It was everything about it. Hard, lonely, hopeful, excited, scared, independent, uncertain. The person on the other side of the desk was wonderful. This makes a difference.
5 years have past very quickly and very slowly and I know you know what I mean by that. Time is truly fascinating.
Now time to renew my mortgage, back in the bank, revisiting all those feelings of 5 years ago, wonderful person on the other side of the desk gone, replaced by GUY SMILEY who has gone to the trouble this morning of printing out my NET WORTH.
Jesus. On an empty stomach?
Then he asks me what my 5 year plan is.
I don’t like you, I say under my breath.
“What’s yours?” I ask smiling.
He tells me.
I said “I have one and I don’t.” Actually I have a few (does having a few mean you are not clear and therefore don’t really have one?) but I didn’t feel like sharing them with him. I didn’t like his tie. He didn’t smile with his eyes.
Then he tells me about the rate he is offering me. Its higher then he is able to give, and we both know that, and he makes me dance for my dinner- a practice that thoroughly pisses me off- knowing how rich the bank is and how aware he is that I am a selfemployedsinglemomoftwo and that my net worth is staring up at both of us from the table. It could be worse but it aint no freedom 55.
” I like your tie” I say “and I want 2 points off that rate- call me when you are ready”.
“And please shred that nasty piece of paper”