Yesterday afternoon, I was walking along the dusty potholled roads of Kampala.
As i lazily walked without any destination in particular, i was accosted by a big signpost of a bank; one of the leading ones in this country whose identity i will not reveal for obvious reasons.
Just at that moment, a brilliant idea hit me, like the Eureka (Eureka, I wish!) and I smartly matched into the bank's Credit Division.
There were two available loans officers, some brown thingie and a stout guy who looked as if his necktie was about to suffocate him. The choice of whom to approach was crystal clear, I headed to the necktie guy's desk. That brown chic was a no go because honestly I didnt want her to beleive that a loaded looking guy like me was looking for a ka loan. Anyway, that's a story for another day but I was hopping I meet her in a more cosy place after getting the loan.
Anyhow, I went to the brother and narrated my stuff. He interviewd me a bit until he was satisfied that I was credit worthy and had the means to pay back the loan. Then came the dumbest question ever, and i quote,
"Why do you want a loan? What are you going to use this money for?"
Surely, that was beyond irritating, should it matter to the bank why I need the money? My conviction is that as long as i can guarantee those Shylocks security that I will pay their money back, never mind the abnormal interest rates, what I do with the money shouldnt be a problem.
Whether I have a mind to walk with the wad of cash straight into the casino or Speke road with it, why should that be their problem??
After expressing my sentiments, the necktied guy passed his verdict. That his bank cant give me any money until I come up with an investment plan of where i will inject it.
Stupid idots! Who told them everyone is supposed to be an investor?
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