My hate affair with mayonnaise and banking

Well, we finally got unpacked and settled just in time for Allen to return to the US on his first of monthly business trips to California. As I’m unemployed, I’ve joined him and am enjoying free, unencumbered access to the internet (got an email from BT today saying our broadband was FINALLY set up!!!). I’m liking London, but have noticed several differences, some of which Allen has already talked about. My two big things are mayonnaise and banking.

First, mayonnaise… It’s a condiment. I like just enough of it to make the bread on my sandwich moist (Marks & Spencer and Pret a Manger both have good pre-maid boxed up sandwiches). As far as I’m concerned, I should not be able to notice mayonnaise on a sandwich. I should definitely not see clumps of mayonnaise oozing from between the slices of bread. It seems that the English LOVE mayonnaise, and a lot of it. I was so happy to find a sandwich at the local Marks & Spencer that was called Chicken with no Mayo. When I opened it up, there was still something on the bread, but in the amount I prefer. It turned out to be yogurt, which is interesting, but at least it has no clumps of mayonnaise. Unfortunately, all their other sandwiches have way too much mayo, a fact which I will have to adjust to (or scrape off).

Second, banking… You can’t just open a bank account in the UK, at least not like in the US. Allen’s company has a relationship with Citibank, allegedly making it easier to open one. We met with a Citibank new accounts person the weekend we arrived. To open an account involved filling out an application, getting a letter of reference from Allen’s employer, and waiting. I’m not even sure if our account is approved yet. Part of the application requested employment information. As I am currently unemployed, I left that part blank. The account person, in reviewing the application, asked if I was a housewife. I explained to her that I was a social worker, but was unemployed while I waited for my social work registration to come through in the UK. I explained that I quit my job so we could move. At the end of my explanation as to why I did not feel I was a housewife, she still said she needed to put something down on the application and said she would put down housewife. Allen said he could see the steam coming off my head. I am most definitely not a housewife. I prefer the label of unemployed to that!

In contrast, this week, back in California, we opened a Citibank account in ten minutes. They didn’t even need to know what our occupations were!