I Hate the Bank

I hate the bank. Hate it. Except for the money…I like the money. Unfortunately none of the money in the bank is mine. Despite my dislike I do have to enter into a bank at least twice a month. It’s definitely my most disliked monthly cycle…and I have to experience it twice so that’s even worse.

Thursday, payday (yay) I head into the dreaded nether world and of course there’s a line-up, but it wasn’t bad, only 2 people. The first guy is on his cell phone. That was the first thing that annoyed me. He’s chatting away about how he’s been a hockey coach for 20 years and he understands this and that…and I can hear the guy he’s talking to singing his praises. I stare at the back of his head…because somehow I think this will make him stop. It did make him turn around and look at everyone behind him…and he gives us all one of those, ‘look at me I’m so cool' looks….you know where he nods his head, winks with this smile like he’s the most amazing person on the planet. Isn’t he funny? Did you hear what he just said? Wasn’t it funny? I wanted to hit him.

Then for some reason there’s this ungodly screech…like a dog being tortured…we all turn to look but there’s no dog. We all look forward again. Then the dog torture/screech sound happens again! We all turn to look … it’s the door to the bank. It’s in desperate need of WD-40. A manager comes out to inspect it. Yep, it’s screeching. He leaves.

There are about 8 people in line now. I’m still number 3. There are only 3 tellers open and for some reason those being served have very complicated transactions. It’s times like these when I wish I had some kind of mute button on my head…where I can block out the noise around me. “Yeah man, when I played street hockey…” Screeching…dog being tortured noises. “Yeah, well I’m in the bank right now so…hang on I got another call…” Screech! “Hello…hey dude, okay about Saturday, let’s meet at 9….” Schreech!

There are about 10 people in line now. Stupid hockey phone dude finally goes up to the teller. He’s depositing into his business account. He’s filled in the paper work all wrong. His phone rings…he takes the call. The teller is visibly frustrated. He turns to us all in line…gives us that ‘hey how ya doing, I’m so wonderful’ look. We’re all deadpan. We want to kill him. We’re all thinking if we had torches right now we’d swarm and kill him like crazy village people from a horror movie (not the village people band…but that would be funny.)

Through all the screeching and annoying cell phone chatter I realize that there is muzac being pumped in through the speakers. I think…now wouldn’t it be good if I could block all this crappy noise and just focus on the music? So I try…I really try and then all of a sudden, like magic, that’s what happens.

All I hear now is the music. It’s a song I recognize…I know the words…in my head I’m singing them. Then, I’m like…WTF is this? This is another creepy old song. “Johnny get angry, Johnny get mad…give me the biggest lecture I’ve ever had…I want a brave man, I want a cave man…show me that you care, really care for me…” Why do I know these words and what is this…the ode to domestic violence song? Of course I’m thinking all this as I’m singing the words in my head. God…I’m thinking if I could only block out this stupid song and hear that guy on his cell phone.

That’s when I see her…that perky little annoying greeter lady. Greeters at Wal-Mart are bad enough…at a bank they’re just freaking annoying. Here she comes. I hate her already…I’ve been in line for about 19 minutes now. I was number 3 in line and now I’m number 2. She’s all giggly with that annoying little girl voice. OMG why do women talk like that? Lower your voice…talk like a woman. Grow up. I hate you. Why do I have to come into this place twice a month anyway. Oh God…she’s talking to the woman in front of me. She hands her something and I’m sure I heard her say “Tim Horton’s” but I dunno…with all the other sounds going on in my head at the moment that might have been a dream.

She looks at me…she looks a little afraid of me to be honest. I try to smile…I know I look like a psychopath by this point. She hands me a little green piece of paper that says if I give this to the customer representative (a.k.a. the teller) I’ll get a free coffee. Not Tim’s … just a coffee.

The lady in front of me gets to the teller…I mean customer representative. I see her hand over the green piece of paper and in return gets a Tim Horton’s gift certificate. Ah…I’m a little happier now.

My turn…I go up to the customer representative…hand over my green coupon…she looks at me (why do these people look afraid of me?) I get 2 Tim Horton’s gift certificates. I guess I must have looked like 1 wouldn’t do.

As I leave … 23 minutes later … my transaction took about 30 seconds…cell phone hockey guy is still trying to sort out his paper work…and taking calls. I open the door to leave and almost jump out of my skin at the animal torture screeching noise. I’d forgotten about that. Thank god I have those 2 gift certificates, because…if there’s one thing a jittery, angry psychopathic-looking person needs…it’s more caffeine.