To Lloyds TSB to pick up a cash advance for a business trip. I present my credentials, and after the cashier told me to put them away, I then showed her the piece of paper telling me my currency was available in this very branch.
"Bear with me."
"You'd better be careful. Bears are dangerous."
Several minutes passed as she checked her computer screen and a large ring-binder, as a lengthening queue of customers snaked out of the door. Eventually, she returned to the counter empty-handed.
"I'm sorry, sir - we've received the paperwork from your organisation, but the notes haven't arrived yet."
Let me just put one crucial piece of evidence in front of the jury: The currency I was after was this --- Her Majesty's Pounds Sterling.
"But... But..." I say, the spectre of a wasted trip looming up before me like Jack the Ripper over a doomed Shoreditch slattern, "You've got whole DRAWERS of money. And possibly a few bob put aside in the safe."
"Yes. Yes we have," said the cashier invoking the memory of Captain Mainwaring," But none of it is YOUR money. Come back this afternoon when we get our foreign currency delivered."
Got help us if there's a war.