On Banks II

Still not about Elizabeth Banks. Sorry.

*A thematic sequel to "On Banks."*


My credit card number got stolen recently. I might have mentioned this.

Only two charges were made, even then only for $11.08 total and one do a shady LLC didn't even get processed because I canceled the card and changed my pin fast enough. How fast? The charges were made as I was balancing my checkbook online at 3:30 a.m.

I almost think it was all stolen by a friend or something, because the one charge that did go through was for an eco-friendly light bulb that was going to be shipped to me house. If not a joke, this was the worst credit fraud ever.


Anyway, I decided it was high time I jump ship on this old account anyway. There are no local branches, no ATMs and I'm getting tired of their crappy online policies. I went down to the Chase Bank in my local supermarket and opened up a checking account that actually has fraud protection where I say, "Stop this from happening," and their response is, "Okay," not, "We can't until it's already happened."

And do you know what they did for me? They told me the wrong way to make out my initial deposit, so they just let me have all that money early. Then they tried to get me to sign up for a credit card. I told them I'm a horrible credit risk with zero taxable income. They laughed. They put through my checking account and then decided that was enough to qualify me for every card they have. With low rates. And bonus points. And extra points. For no yearly. You know those commercials in black-and-white with the guy from the dog food commercials and the woman from Pam Anderson's old show V.I.P.? Of course you do. Well I have that card now. With a ridiculous limit. It's insane. I can literally charge something like seven times my actual net worth. I don't know what they smoke down at Chase, but whatever it is I hope they're dealing too because they would make a fortune.

I tried to close down the old evil bank for good the other day. You know what they said? A transaction I made Friday afternoon had yet to be processed by Monday afternoon. A full business day and you haven't approved $45? Really? Maybe if you stayed open past 3 p.m. you could get some shit done.

Speaking of shit, the closest branch I was able to go to (well, the closest branch I could go to without getting shot for driving through the area)? Massive shithole. The building is grubby. It's not even a bank. There's a bank across the street. There's an other Chase right next door. This bank? No, it's a shopfront in a mini-mall. It has some chairs and a couple lamps, with some bad paintings of sailboats on the wall next to large framed ads. There are to little kiosks. No bulletproof glass, no locked doors, just a fat, middle-aged white woman and a chubby, slightly younger Indian woman. They sit around in shabby store that looks like it was decorated in early-smoking-lounge chique and tell me I can't take my money away from their shit security because they haven't finished playing with some of it just yet.

I swear this bank would be better run by a couple of kindergartners and a Fisher Price cash register.

On Probable Cause

Ever since my grandfather went into the nursing home we've been helping my grandmother get all the finances and insurances and assorted paperwork in her name.

Most recently, it was decided that she needed somebody new to have joint access to her checking account, in case there is an emergency and she is out of town or in a coma or otherwise incapable of reaching her money.

Her daughter, my aunt, can't legally do it as she has power of attorney over that account and that would represent a conflict of interests. My mom can't do it because she works at minimum ten hours a day, six days a week. Also, she divorced my dad twenty years ago.

So guess who got signed up for the job, due to his complete unemployment and total availability (assuming you count nocturnalism as availability)?

That's right, boys and girls. If my grandmother drops dead from any mysterious accident, I have to hope no major transactions were made recently, because I can expect a call from Lenny Briscoe et al wondering what the neerdowell grandson was up to, worming his way into grandma's pocketbook.

This is in fact what the little Hispanic lady working our transaction thought. I was cool with handing over my ID, and the phone number was fine and I even recognize that doling out my social is perfectly acceptable now, there are just vague dystopian sci-fi elements to it. Once she asked me what my annual income was I was livid. I hate that question. Apparently it's the most important question any advertiser can ask you because it breaks down who buys what, but you know what? Fuck you. What fucking right do you have to ask me about how much I earn? That's none of your goddam business, assholes.

Eeeexcept if its a bank asking. That's, uh, kind of all their business is, in fact.

I swallowed my outrage and moved forward, butfor me moving forward entailed me saying, "Well, I just graduated, so I'm unemployed." Technically I'm six months unemployed, but she didn't ask that. What she did ask makes her a bitch-and-a-half. Maybe five-eighths.

"But you must do something…," she said.

Fuck you, whore, I'm a mutherfuggin writer. I write books an shit you ain't heard of. Sooo I told her I'm in the process of writing a book so I make nothing right now, but I thought a really angry face at her. Hopefully somewhere in her head she saw me being really angry and the words "Que malo, puta."

But I showed her.

Soon after she looked at her screen, puzzled. "Is this right?" she asked. "You have zero credit?" Now I had actually been wondering about this. I have a check card and a copy of my mom's credit card for emergencies. I also have no student loans, which is unheard of. Not 'I paid them all off already,' I literally have never had a student loan.

"Oh, yes, I wanted to check that but, yes, that's right. No credit at all."

"You don't have, like, a credit card?"

"Nope."

"No student loans?"

"Nope. That's how I can afford to be unemployed." Face!

Bitch just let out "Lu-ckyyy…," and shut the hell up. So yeah, she thinks I'm a spoiled little Jew heir, but that's probably an apt comparison since I'm pretty sure she grew up in some Venezuelan fishing village and everyone in this country seems rich.


Down side: New York shot down legalization of gay marriage 38-24 today.

Up side: Today I made the best Christmas gift ever. After having to wake up when it was still light out made me insanely productive. Got some Hanukkah shopping done and made something cool I will post some time soon. (It's a surprise.)