But I'm not Catholic?

I'm not Catholic. But I may as well be considering the huge amount of guilt I carry with me all the time. About everything. And anything. Name a topic and I can show you how guilty I feel about it and how in some way or another I'm responsible for it. Drought in Africa. Sure, that's partly me. Here's how.

I refused to adhere to water restrictions imposed by the City of Cape Town back in the summer of '07. (It doesn't quite have the ring of '69 to it.) Instead of watering my garden on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I did it on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It just worked better for me. But now I believe that disturbing the equilibrium of the Voelvlei Dam led to large parts of Africa being deprived of water. And I'm to blame. The guilt is terrible.

Another thing I often feel guilty about is earning a good salary. It just doesn't seem right when we are not only going through the worst recession but the majority of South Africans still don't know the luxury of three meals a day. Every day. Not just once in a while. So while the institution who provides me with banking services have been sucking me dry the last 18 months or so, I've always felt too bad taking it up with them. Because they could take one look at their computer screen and tell me to bugger off after seeing what I earn every month. That I should be embarrassed to even walk into the bank and try and negotiate for lower bank charges. I should be grateful they don't increase my bank charges. And so on and so on.

After receiving my latest statement, I temporarily forgot about all of this and ranted and raved for hours. With nobody but the poodle to listen to me. Because I quickly added up what they've deducted from me this month for debit orders (which I did not ask for, it is mandatory), withdrawals and even worse - deposits. The low life, pond scum fother muckers! How can you charge your client for putting money into their account? And does it have to be so much. I understand a bank is a business like any other but then reduce your sponsorships of rugby tournaments, the Scrabble Play Offs, Mrs Milk Tart 2009 or whatever the hell else they sponsor for the sake of CSI (Corporate Social Investment, not my other career choice). Now if this was Switzerland, you could probably ask for your salary to be paid in cash or Toblerone bars for all I care. But it would be safe enough for you to leave your money in a cupboard at home and use it as you see fit.

Unfortunately we so ever slightly have a crime problem in SA. Having even a R100 in your wallet will mean you either get robbed off it by some lowlife on the street or you will have a Jo'burg Metro Cop relieve you of it as a result of a spot fine. The offence can range from not wearing your seat belt to talking on your phone or having a perfectly roadworthy vehicle with a WP sticker on the bumper. We therefore use ATM's all the time and to charge you for every transaction based on the amount of money you withdraw, is bullshit. Why is it more expensive to withdraw R500 than R200? Because the little guy in the ATM counting the money has to count an extra millisecond. What a joke. And then you still have to count your money because suddenly you find more and more ATM's where the incorrect amounts are being dispensed. Not to mention the fact that my credit card got stuck in the ATM the other day and it took them 15 minutes to get it out and back to me. Not before I had to identify the card, myself and practically leaving a urine sample and some blood.

In this happy state of mind I decided to set off to the bank, with all my arguments in place. For a brief moment I considered putting on an adult nappy, remembering what the last outing on a Saturday was like. Standing in a queue to speak to a consultant only to have to give up your place 3 hours later due to a weak bladder. With more than enough bravado I enter the bank and to my pleasant surprise, walk straight into the bank manager's office. Yes, the manager because there was no consultant on duty. And immediately launch into a diatribe about bank charges and what I've been paying . Before I can continue, the manager stops me with a simple 'This is ridiculous, you should be paying R200 less.' With one sentence she shuts me up and I sit there, simply staring at her with my mouth half open.

It turns out that I could have saved R2400 this last year had I gone to the bank and negotiated a better package. In this case, I didn't even negotiate, I simply showed up. In 10 minutes all the relevant documents were completed and I walked out R200 richer every month. I was beyond pleased with myself. And then the guilt set in. How can I be part of a system that lets you pay less the more you earn? Surely that isn't right? I earn more money so I can afford to pay more for services provided by my bank. And maybe it is because of people like me that our economy is in dire straits. The people who can afford to pay bank charges are not paying that much after all.

That was Saturday. Today I found out my dog has a hernia and needs expensive surgery to scrape her teeth clean. Which has nothing to do with the hernia but it still needs to get done. My car is going in for a service tomorrow and thanks to the pot holes with a bit of road in between in Gauteng, the alignment needs to be done again. So between minty fresh breath for my hernia free dog and a perfectly aligned car, the bank can go and stuff itself. Today. Tomorrow. Not Together.