Meeting the bank manager
I popped in to see the bank manager last week.
"Bob" he exclaimed as I walked into his office, "it's been a while. What can I do for you?"
"Hello George. I'm thinking of taking on a business and I'm going to need a loan" I replied.
"Excellent idea Bob, excellent idea. That's why we're here. Have a seat."
"You know we're always happy to help the budding entrepreneurs get on their feet. What sort of business are you looking at?"
"I'm thinking of taking on a pub" I replied.
He paused, briefly looking at me as if unsure he'd heard correctly. Then, without warning, he began to laugh, initially tentatively then hysterically.
As this state of hilarity gained momentum, George appeared to lose all semblance of control, eventually falling off his chair and collapsing in a helpless giggling heap on the floor.
His secretary, hearing the commotion, burst in.
Her eyes widened as she looked at George rolling around on the floor. By this time he was clutching his sides, his posture hideously contorted. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
Panic stricken, she turned to me.
"What's happened?" she asked. "He hasn't had a heart attack has he?"
"No" I replied. "I just asked him for a loan to take on a pub."
She looked at me for an instant before she too succumbed to a seemingly uncontrollable fit of side splitting laughter.
Sitting there, I felt somewhat bemused as the pair rolled around on the floor to the accompaniment of high pitched squeals and guffaws.
On the face of it, their behaviour was completely irrational. However, it was clear that neither was in any fit state to explain what it was they found so amusing.
Eventually, as the laughter began to abate and a semblance of calm appeared to return, I felt an overwhelming urge to clarify my position, to put their minds at rest.
"What's the problem?" I asked "I'm just looking to buy a pub lease."
Far from helping, this only appeared to make matters worse.
"He wants......he wants....." said George, visibly struggling to control himself at this point,.... "to buy........a lease ....a pub lease!" Both then collapsed in another fit of hysterical laughter from which there appeared to be no way back.
At this point I observed that my request had generated such hilarity that George actually lost control of his bodily functions, succumbing to what can only be diplomatically described as a bladder malfunction.
Unperturbed, he remained prostrate on the floor, continuing to emit highly audible guffaws; seemingly oblivious to his rather embarrassing predicament.
Eventually concluding that any prospect of a loan had all but disappeared I retrieved my business plan and duly left; the sounds of high pitched laughter still ringing in my ears.
Looking back on it now, I find it difficult to come up with a rational explanation for what took place in George's office that day.
Was it something I said?
Robert Sayles used to help his wife run the Hakuna Matata pub in Birmingham.
