<Originally posted elsewhere on April 16th, 2009>
I know it's a good title when typing it makes me giggle. And it does. I am giggling right now.
Really, they can. I will even attach a fake hairy ball sack for them to nibble on. Because I'm considerate like that.
I went to a Bank of Assholes branch this morning to cash a client check. As I was standing in line with the other 47 people in need of a little ching-ching, this pissy looking lady with a clipboard paces around the group like a hungry tiger and asks if there are any non-account holders in line. I raise my hand and she says "M'am, I need you to step out of line and sign in."
As I slink over to her feeling like I'm about to get my knuckles rapped with a ruler, she explains to me that "from now on" (which was apparently at 9:02 a..m to-fucking-day) non-account holders have to "sign in with the lobby leader and sit in the waiting area until your name is called."
A lobby leader? Are you kidding me? Fuck me with a chainsaw if I ever have the job title of lobby leader. Sweet relief with a staple puller seems like a better alternative.
And so I am relegated to the waiting area reserved for maybe-customers. The line continues to grow and I realize that after I am "helped" (which I am assuming will amount to a sales pitch to open an account and annoying condescension about why I'm not cashing my checks at my own bank) I will probably have to wait in the godforsaken line which is starting to look like the soup kitchen line on Thanksgiving.
"Robert" aka Fucktard aka Lobby Leader Bitch calls me back in his office and asks me how I'm doing. "Fine," I say through pursed lips. He looks at me quizically with fake concern and says that I seem upset. I tell him that this seems like an awful lot of trouble just to cash a simple check.
Robert kindly explains to me that pulling non-account-holders aside and handling things this way doesn't bog down the line of account holders who have swank fast food jobs waiting for them. He then brightly says that they'd love to have me as a customer as well but seems to ignore me when I tell him that the customer service thus far is unconvincing.
As he's accessing the account information of my client, I ask him if I'm going to have to wait in the soup kitchen line after he's finished with me.
"I'm just checking on a few things."
Hey! Robert! I'm sorry your life sucks but that's not a fucking answer.
He then tells me that the signature on the account does not match the signature on the check. He calls my client at home but they apparently have an invalid number for her. He refuses to take any phone numbers from me because I apparently look unprofessional in my Batman t-shirt with purple and blue highlights in my hair. (Yes, I know. There's a valid reason for this. Still annoying.)
It is becoming exceedingly clear that there will be no check-cashing on this good morn and I need to get out of there before I paper-cut him to death with a check that is fabulously useless.
I am reaching across the desk to retrieve my license when I discover that he has called someone else into the room to "look at this" and further suck up my morning.
"If the signatures don't match and you can't anything about it here, I'll just take the check back and deposit it in my own bank," I tell him.
He tells me again that they are checking on a few things.
I smile as politely as I can while reaching across the desk to swipe my check, my license and my credit card. "I think we're done here. I will take this to my bank and thank you for reminding me WHY I bank with them." Fuckers.
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