The Small Print

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I hate small-print, which for somebody who, so many would say, used to make a living out of writing it, is probably a little strong. Nevertheless even a trip to the supermarket reduces me to a state of  irritation in the face of all those 2 for 1 offers and bargain items, half of which are not what they seem when you can find something in the next aisle, around the corner or even displayed next to the heavily marketed product, at a much more attractive price. Of course, when I worked, and because shopping was done in a rushed trip usually en route home from work, I hardly noticed. Now that I have more time and actually read the pricing labels with care, I am amazed at how easy it is to fall foul of the advertising.

It used to be the same with bank and building society accounts. You know those accounts where for a fixed and better rate, you tie your money up for a year or whatever period is on offer. Then, and cynically I assume the institution relies on the lethargy of its customers, I was invariably too busy at work to sort the transfer of funds in a timely fashion leaving them to accrue either no, or very notional, interest. It didn't just apply to fixed rate accounts either; variable interest rates can alter and still I would rarely quite get round to do anything about them in a snatched and limited lunchtime and, if I did make it to the bank or building society, it was inevitably without whatever the latest forms of identification were that they needed to release funds.

You can imagine therefore how proud I felt today to make my way to both bank and building society in advance of deadline dates, ahead of lunchtime queues and sort out the necessary changes. Even more so when I also tackled the supermarket labels and to the best of my knowledge (that's the caveat in the small-print talking) came out a winner.

However, the best was still to come.  

Upon returning home the postman had delivered a cd from a lovely couple with whom we had travelled around Cuba. I placed it in the disk player and moody Latin American salsa and tango filled the air. The Youngest and I had a fantastic session dancing in our living room. It seemed she knew all the steps from an electronic dance mat on which she had wasted her mid-teen years and we had a wonderful happy time. 

Who really cares about contractual terms anyway?


Comments

Debra Journet said…
Congratulations on finessing contractual terms and even better being rewarded with tango!
9 January 2015 at 03:04
Caree Risover said…
Why thank you (*bows graciously)
25 January 2015 at 22:22
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