"Can I see your manager?"

I, for one, am thoroughly frustrated with the distinct lack of customer service satisfaction I've been receiving today. I don't ask for much. So why is it so damn difficult to do a relatively simple thing?

When I got up this morning I had an agenda, which is very unlike me, but I had one. And I wanted to keep it. I was gonna go to the bank and sort out a transfer of cash to Mel, drop my holiday films into Boots, have lunch, get a card and pressie for Pamela, pick up film and then go see the new arrival in Dalston by 2pm, give or take 20 mins. So far so good.

I arrive at the bank and queue for 10 mins. I get to the front desk and say I want to carry out a transfer. I'm given a form to complete and a guidance form, all self-explanatory. So I fill out all the details and include a cute message to appear in my statement. I queue for another 10 mins. Oh, did I mention its like 26C today and the bank's air-con is broken? I get to the front. "Do you have a passport?" I'm asked. Excuse me, is this the airport?!
"No," I reply.
"Oh," she says, "starting Monday we need ID before we carry out transfers."
"But its Saturday!" I protest.
"Yes, but we won't be able to carry out the transfer till Monday so we need ID."
I'm pretty mad so I do my whole clench-fists-and-slowly-release thing I do when I'm mad, slowly exhale, and say, "When do you close Monday?"
"4.30pm."
I look at her blankly.
"What time do you finish work then?" she asks.
"I do nine to five like a normal person," I snapped.
"Do you want to come back next Saturday then?" she says.
"Not really," I snapped, yanking the form from her, "but, hey, what choice do I have?"
"Sorry!" she calls breezily as I stomp, yes, STOMP out of the bank. I am SO annoyed. I can't believe I need ID to give someone else my money. I feel more and more disillusioned every time I go to my bank. Maybe I should have asked for another form, this time for a transfer of accounts to another bank?

I go to Boots, queue for 15mins, and request the 1-hour process. "It'll be an hour fifteen, is that okay?" Sure. Fine. Whatever.

I leave to find lunch and think to myself, "Surely it must get better from here?" I go to the new patisserie in Church Street, situated opposite the dwindling Abbey, where I closed my savings account not so long ago. (It's here I think about going to another bank.) Anyway, I order toasted ciabatta and cappuccino. The guy behind me in the queue orders the exact same thing. He then sits at the table next to mine, and when the order is called, raises his arm at the same time as me. He then looks at me and says, "Ladies first." This annoys me greatly. Not only did he try to muscle in on my order, but he made it look like I couldn't wait and he was letting me first because it would be the gentlemanly thing to do. I glared at him and (unsuccessfully) willed his head to explode.

After lunch I go back to Boots, pick up a baby gift for Pam, and go to the counter to pick up my film. I am actually 5 mins late. "Sorry, it's not ready yet," I'm told. "Can you just wait over there another five minutes?"
I patiently wait. Five minutes turns into ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Someone appears from out back and motions me to come to the till and pay.
"It says you give a one hour service," I said. "So what happens when a one hour service becomes one hour forty minutes?"
I get the blank look treatment.
"Well," I continued. "I'm rather reluctant to pay for a one hour service if that's not what I got."
Further blank looks.
"What do I have to do to get some compensation around here?"
The girl shuffles uncomfortably and says, "We were rather busy today."
Pause.
"And?" I enquired. "If it couldn't be done you should have said at the time I gave you the films to process."
Pause.
"If you have a Boots card I can give you double points."
"That'll do!" I say and happily hand over my card.

I actually got something out of my troubles eventually. But this sort of service would never happen in America. How can England stop being a nation full of complainers if we continue to tolerate this sort of service from stores, especially the high-profile ones like I went into today?