Bank on it

by LOU MAZE, RMG Humour Writer

Am I the only one who’s IQ plummets down to their shoe size the minute they step into a bank?

Banks have always made me nervous. They are too tidy. Eerily tidy. The kind of tidy that doesn’t belong around living beings. It is creepy how everyone is busy, but no one is making a mess.

Here they have their own language of acronyms and numbers, salted with just enough English to offer the hope of comprehension.

For me, the bank is a foreign environment where everything I know is rendered irrelevant and between my ears, I can actually hear the ocean.

None of my skills or knowledge are applicable here. I studied psychology and communications, not accounting or finance. No one wants me to sing, or construct a poem. And this is no place for the stand up routine I perfected for open-mike night. Even my common sense is unwelcome here.

But it is not just my ignorance that is the problem. What I do know is dangerous because it makes me angry and nothing takes the sincerity out of begging, like a blind fury.

I try to forget bank fees and astronomical bank profits. I try to block out the first 20 years of my life, when the bank was so happy to take my money, they paid me for the privilege.

Here they play favorites and they’re proud of it. The less you need money the more they want to give you. The more astronomical your debt, the more likely they are to shrug it off.

My three least favorite things converge here, forms, numbers and the distinct possibility of rejection. As I sit and wait, I find myself wishing I was at the Dentist’s office getting a root canal and drugs, lots and lots of drugs.

I’m not saying a trip to the Dentist is fun but it’s hardly a challenge. Your input in the process is minimal, rinse and spit, don’t scream or bite anyone when they stick the needle through the top of your head.

At the Dentist, everyone is equal. Stupid or smart, rich or poor, all will lisp. All will dribble their first drink down their front and everyone will lie about flossing.

Most importantly, a Dentist will never look into your mouth and suggest that you come back when you have more teeth, a perfect smile or the agony has abated.

Guess who needs more teeth.

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