Since I still use my American bank, I seldom interact with the British banking system. Today, however, I needed cash so I visited a Barclay’s bank “cashpoint. (Note to British readers: In America this is known as an ATM for Automatic Tiller Machine, or, as my uncle calls it a Magic Money Machine). Apparently I haven’t used a Barclay’s cashpoint before, because after choosing to withdraw cash, the machine asked if I wanted an advice slip. This was a new phrase for me.
An advice slip? It had to be the same as a receipt, I figured, about to push the button, since I always collect receipts for automatic transactions. But then I hesitated. What if “advice slip” was really some sort of clever marketing ploy. By pressing “advice slip,” was I inadvertently signing myself up for some kind of personal banking scheme?
What if the machine had retrieved full access to my accounts once I slipped in my card, and, using some sort of cruel algorithm blind to the plight of an overseas volunteer living with a not-very-friendly-exchange rate, had determined that my outgoings far exceeded my incomings and I was in desperate need of financial advice? Perhaps the slip would read, “You are an economic fool. We are putting a temporary freeze on your bank card until you sign up for one of our excellent savings plans. A bank manager will ring you shortly.”
