E.L.L.A.

Am primit pe mail urmatoarea discutie

O doamna in varsta a murit in ianuarie, dar BCR a continuat sa o taxeze pentru lunile februarie si martie cu taxele de administrare pentru cardul sau de credit, la care a adaugat taxe de intarziere si alte comisioane lunare. Balanta contului a ajuns astfel de la 0 la aproape 60 dolari.Nepotul raposatei suna la banca sa rezolve problema:
Nepotul: V-am sunat sa va spun ca bunica mea a murit in ianuarie.
BCR: Contul nu a fost inchis, iar taxele de intarziere si comisioane se aplica in continuare.
Nepotul: Poate ar trebui sa trimeti contul catre recuperare.
BCR : Deja am facut acest lucru, de vreme ce au trecut doua luni.
Nepotul : Ce vor face cei de acolo cand vor afla ca este moarta?
BCR: Vor raporta contul diviziei fraude sau catre biroul de credit, sau poate ambele lucruri.
Nepotul: Credeti ca Dumnezeu se va supara pe bunica?
BCR : Pardon?!!!
Nepotul: Ati inteles ce v-am spus eu, partea cu faptul ca a murit?
BCR : Domnule, trebuie sa vorbiti cu supervizorul meu.
Supervizorul preia discutia cu clientul
Nepotul : V-am sunat sa va spun ca a murit in ianuarie.
BCR : Contul nu a fost inchis si taxele de intarziere si comisioane se aplica in continuare.
Neputul: Vrei sa spuneti ca veti recupera banii din proprietatile ei?
BCR: Sunteti avocatul ei?
Nepotul : Nu, nepotul.
Ii da datele de contact ale avocatului
BCR: Puteti sa ne trimiteti un fax cu certificatul ei de nastere?
Nepotul : Da.
Dupa ce ii trimite faxul:
BCR : Sistemul nostru nu este setat pentru aceasta situatie, moartea. Nu stiu cu ce pot sa va ajut mai mult.
Nepotul : Daca reusiti sa rezolvati situatia ar fi perfect. Daca nu, puteti continua sa o taxati. Nu cred ca o mai deranjeaza.
BCR : Taxele de intarziere si comisioane vor continua sa se aplice.
Nepotul: Vreti noua ei adresa la care sa trimiteti facturile?
BCR Ne-ar ajuta.
Nepotul : Cimitirul Sf. Vineri, Alea 29, lotul nr. 69.
BCR: codul postal va rog!

Elvis Presley – In the Ghetto lyrics

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin’
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
‘Cause if there’s one thing that she don’t need
It’s another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto

People, don’t you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or he’ll grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way

Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto

And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto

Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he don’t get far
And his mama cries

As a crowd gathers ’round an angry young man
Face down in the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto

As her young man dies,
On a cold and grey Chicago mornin’,
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries

In the ghetto
In the ghetto

Am calatorit mult… si totusi n-am reusit sa ajung acasa…

Dido – Life for Rent Lyrics

I haven’t really ever found a place that I call home
I never stick around quite long enough to make it
I apologize that once again I’m not in love
But it’s not as if I mind
that your heart ain’t exactly breaking

It’s just a thought, only a thought

But if my life is for rent and I don’t lean to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine

I’ve always thought
that I would love to live by the sea
To travel the world alone
and live my life more simply
I have no idea what’s happened to that dream
Cos there’s really nothing left here to stop me

It’s just a thought, only a thought

But if my life is for rent and I don’t learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine

While my heart is a shield and I won’t let it down
While I am so afraid to fail so I won’t even try
Well how can I say I’m alive

If my life is for rent…