i was thinking about doing another riff today but for the past few months banks have been messing with me and josh asked so…
it started in earnest this past january. i got suckered into changing a savings account into one that paid more interest. fine, ok. only trouble was the girl, young lady, didn’t know what she was doing. things got messed up for a bit and every one was sorry. though it took a few trips back to the bank to sit there and fume while they ‘fixed’ shit. yeah, ok fine. i’m such a nice guy or so fucking stupid, one or the other, when i needed an ira for tax shit this year, i went back to my bank to get one. i got the same girl, young lady. again.
i should have just walked out or waited till someone else was around to help me. but no, i’m a nice guy and fucking stupid, so i was like damn, ok, maybe this time… uh, huh. she set me up ok. set me up for an early death from raging angst and high blood pressure. seems she had never done an ira before. oh, boy. she’s all over the bank asking pertinate questions of everybody. i’m drinking coffee thinking…you dumb ass fucker, get the fuck up and leave. now.
no, i was too nice for that action. i stayed. well, it finally got done, the paperwork and stuff. a certain amount was to be taken from my regular checking account to pay for the ira. a week or 2 went by and the balance never showed the ira amount being taken out. ok, crap, i need a java jazz so may as well get some and go into the bank and sit there while they, while they, do what they do.
the young lady, girl wasn’t there. so i saw this youg man. he assured me things would be taken care of. so dumb fuck me left. well, turns out when the girl, young lady, got there they gave it to her to take care of. yeah, she did a bang up job. such a good job they took the ira amount out of my checking account, twice. fucking sweet jesus save me from the wretched banking asses. so another trip to the bank. this time i see another lady. the girl, young lady is there as well as the young man, boy. everyone is like hey, word up? i’m their buddy now cause i’m in there all the damn time. well, shit, sorry i didn’t bring donuts.
i am told by the new young lady, girl all is ok now. it’s fixed. or will be. that day. plus the account will be opened. finally. this has been weeks after the account was supposed to have been opened. yeah, ok. i give em another week and nothing has happened. yeah, i’m back in the bank but this time i want, manager, give me manager. now!! so he’s all oh, yes, ah, yes, and shit. i’m like you have pull. you are mamager. be manager. you call and see if you can light some sort of fire under these ira shit heels. he goes, oh, yes i can do that.
it took another 2 trips to the damn bank to get everything straighted out. just amazing. the last trip i got several other things sorta straighten out as well. kinda. it was the second girl, young lady. she talked me into moving some other money around for more interest. yeah, dumb ass sucker that i am, i went for it. she assured me things would be ok. she was doing it. oozing confidence won me over. well, it took a few more trips to get that mess fixed. things are ok with that bank now or at least they are with me. i guess they will be until the term of the accounts expire and i have to do some damn thing or another. i can’t wait.
it ain’t over yet. another bank. out where my parents live. they are old, both in their 90’s. at some point or another it became apperent i couldn’t write checks for them if needed. my dad worries as mom is legally blind. bank says, no, your son can’t do that. we go, i used to be on the account for that. well, that was the old bank we do shit different. of course. perhaps you would like to fuck me in the ass with a fork, as well? now it’s a trip to the lawyer, make that 3 trips to the lawyer, to get the damn paper that tells the damn bank, put me on the damn account.
ok. back to the bank with legal papers in hand and it’s all sweetness and light. we do this and that. now dad is old. he still thinks it’s 1955 and banks are still like they were in 1955. yeah, well. he doesn’t have an atm card. refuses to get one. i want one. if they need cash i can score it for them anywhere. we don’t have to wait for the bank to open so he can go in and dick around trying to cash a check without an atm card if the teller doesn’t know him, that’s a really really fun thing to watch. ooofa. drifting.
lady doing the deal says ok. you will have your atm card by so many days. fine. well, the days have gone by. i even threw in some extra ones because of the 4th of july. yeah, it’s been awhile. still no card. i called the customer service center yesterday. no help. plus it’s some offf shore place and i could not understand a fucking word the guy was saying. he had to spell his name 4 times before i understood what the hell he was saying. turns out they can’t do anything. i was yelling by the time i hung up on the douche bag.
i called the bank itself. someone picked up the phone and hung it up with out saying kiss my ass or anything. nice. i’m pretty much frying by now. i call back and get some woman who is clueless. of course. she says i’ll get the lady who set the stuff up to call you back. fine. said lady calls back. i ask about atm card. she goes well, you have this and that and blah blah blah but that does’t allow you to have an atm card. say what? you told me i was getting one in so many days. no, i didn’t. yes you did. no, i’m sorry you may have legal eagle shit but that doesn’t mean you can have one. i’m like livid. i told her i was not hallucinating and she did tell me i would get a card. no, sir, i did not. i say, ok, sweet mother of god, so there isn’t an atm card floating around out in our wonderful mail system. no, sir. i say fine, that’s all i need to know. i hang up.
a few mintues later the phone rings. it’s the lady from the bank. falling all over her self apologizing. she made a mistake. she looked up the stuff and finally remembered who i was. why, yes, with your legal eagle stuff you do get an atm card. ok, fine. where the fuck is it? ah, well, sorry, but um, i forgot to turn the paperwork in. i just found the papers in a desk drawer. i feel the fork in my ass go a few inches deeper. so ok. i get the card. i told said lady to have it sent to the bank and i’ll go get it next week on my parental run. i wonder if there will be donuts?
music provided by, frank zappa, ‘you can’t do that on stage anymore vol 3’.