Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Two bank accounts

Are you kidding me? Two bank accounts? You're shitting me, right?

Typically I avoid the bank like a half-used condom in a public shower. Luckily the power of Al Gore's Superhighway has made going to the bank and waiting in teller lines a thing of the past for me but today was a rare exception to my ebanking practices. So me and Anat (girlfriend) are at the bank this morning buying some traveler's cheques for our upcoming trip. Did I mention I hate going to the bank? Today I loved going to the bank! While in-person banking is usually a boring process sucking precious minutes from my already too short day, today my time in line was well worth the wait.

While standing there talking to my bullet-proof-glass-protected bank teller I overheard a conversation at the very next window:

Teller: Hello, how may I help you?
Old crusty snob lady: I'd like to make a withdrawal
Teller: OK -- can you scan your ATM card through the reader please?
Old crusty snob lady: No - I don't have it with me.
Teller: Oh, well may I see some ID?
Old crusty snob lady: I can't believe you're treating me like this?

This is where I started paying a little more attention. At first I thought the old bag was joking around and then she started yelling.

"I have two accounts at this bank and this is how you speak to me?!" Don't lots of people have two accounts at banks -- you know, checking AND savings? Then she starts to broadcast how much she has in these accounts while yelling at the nice teller. "I have $50,000 in my accounts and you talk to me like this -- where is the complaint desk -- who do I complain too?"

At this point the absurdity was too much and I just started laughing so hard. The teller handing our request, unable to hear what was going on because of the afore-mentioned bulletproof glass asks me what was so funny so I tell her. The thing is, in order for her to hear me, I have to yell so my sonic waves can go where a copkiller bullet can't. So I tell her, "I'm laughing at this old lady over there (20 inches from me actually). She's yelling at that poor teller for no reason and being a real jerk.

At this point two things started happening -- Anat got that look on her face that she typically gets when I decide to open up my big mouth and this old lady turns to me and says, "NO REASON? Why I never?" This was great -- I didn't know real people actually ever said that." Mind you, I should have mentioned earlier, that she might not have been a real person. She sorta looked like a slightly slimmer, female version of Marlon Brando in, The Island of Doctor Moreau -- white face paint and all! I shit you not, this woman looked rough. After I made my comment, she continued rambling and complaining to herself about how rude everyone was.

I guess I shouldn't be too surprised with this lady -- I live in Santa Monica, and in addition to being the home of Neo-pederast Governors, torrential desert hail storms and homicidal farmer's market shoppers, we also get our fair share of high-falutin LA snobs. I moved out to CA so I could see something different -- we sure got plenty of different out here, including a landmark that can only equate to Ben's Chili Bowl for you DCers. It's called Roscoe's Fried Chicken and Waffles and it's so damn tasty. In fact that's where I'm going right now -- to get a 1/4 chicken and two waffles. Mmmmmm mmmmmm!