Today, I thought I would let my state of being jobless be a help instead of a hinder, and I offered to run some ‘simple’ errands for my Nan.

(Yes, I am jobless, no I am not claiming benefits, so if you would like to send me some money for no reason what so ever, my paypal email is Kelly.jackson2102@gmail.com … thanks)

The task was menial, and something thousands or pensioners carry out every week.

Go to the Post Office, get pension, put it in bank. I repeated it to myself like a mantra. This was today’s motivation. Go to Post Office, get pension, put it in bank.

I usually try to avoid the Post Office at all costs, usually by inventing wild excuses why I can’t go in there and getting my Mum to send parcels for me. ”But Mum, last time I went in there, I called the lady a slag, I really shouldn’t go back for a while”

”Mum, the Post Office smell plays up my Asthma. And it makes me itch.”

Seeing as I didn’t have anything better to do today, I didn’t even mind that when I took my ticket it was number 42, and we were currently on 22. I can’t remember when the Post Office reverted to the Argos way of doing things, but I should imagine it was around 2005 when Royal Mail stopped them being the monopoly on British Post because the government realised they are shit.

One of the reasons I enjoy Basildon so much, is due to the sights you see just going about life. While standing in the queue, I witnessed a man with long blonde hair in denim cut off shorts.

I thought ‘HOLY CRAP its Hulk Hogan’ until reason hit me and I thought ‘don’t be stupid Kelly……Hulk Hogan isn’t old enough to collect his pension’. My Mum advised me this short wearing character was quite a ‘face’ and he wears said shorts come rain or shine, snow or heat wave. Good luck to him, if that’s what he believes in. I personally don’t get Scientology but there’s plenty of people who DO believe that we are all re-incarnations of dead aliens. Each to their own.

After the fairly painless experience in the Post Office (which I’m still in shock about) all I had to do was go into Natwest and pay some money in. I had a slip, pre written out by Nan, because even at the age of 25 she clearly doesn’t trust me with a biro.

My Mum says ‘Don’t go to the machine, it’s complicated’ and I think to myself ‘complicated for you love because you don’t even know how to plug in a DVD player, but I, a woman of the 21st century will surely be able to navigate a self service paying in machine. After all, look at how well I do with the self service in supermarkets and Smiths’ (by the way how cheeky is it that the self service in WH Smith STILL asks you if you want chocolate? if I wanted chocolate I’d go to Thornton’s or the Poundshop mate).

The first mistake I made, was believing I didn’t need any help. The lady in Natwest bordered on offending me asking if I needed help right after a 90 year old man had told her no. No, I don’t need help. You put the slip and the money in and sod off. It’s not hard is it.

The second mistake I made, was wrongly assuming you put the notes in one by one. You don’t. I didn’t want to put £20 in I wanted to put £50 in. Easy enough, cancel the transaction and start again, I’ve got all day.

Only problem is after cancelling the transaction, the machine gave me a nice bold message YOU WILL NOT GET YOUR SLIP BACK. What, wait, why wont I get my slip back? Where has my slip gone?

Has it gone for a little trip involving flying over the Bermuda triangle?

Has it gone to take pictures of the storm on the coast and not returned?

Has it taken advantage of the recent immigration laws in reverse and moved to Bulgaria?

Panic over. Lets just queue up and get my slip back.

Oh no, thank god. My slip is CLEARLY still in the machine. I get a little receipt with the transaction ID. Due to the fact my slip is CLEARLY in the machine I mistakenly think it will be easy enough to still continue my transaction. I do appreciate it may be hard but not impossible, so I put on my best fake charm (learned from recruitment), saunter over to the desk and my exchange goes like the following:

”Hi (looks at name badge) Debbie, I wonder if you can, I don’t have my Nan’s bank card, and the machine has just eaten the slip but given me this receipt. She can’t get out at the moment so I’m helping her and really need to get this money in”

Debbie: ”Sorry cant help you”

Short and sweet Debbie I like your style.

So the long and short of it is, I went to town, and only managed to complete 50% of a task that most people 65 and over do on a weekly basis without any trouble at all.