The one day of the week that I look forward to is Friday and somehow, for me, it started off like a Monday.
First…Potholes!
The miserable tire-swallower’s are everywhere and growing by leaps and bounds; you cannot escape their hungry jaws. Driving down the Taconic Parkway was a test of survival. I foresee front-end alignments, ball joints, rims and new tires seriously affecting the finances of thousands of motorists. Getting to work is like going 4-Wheelin’ without all the mud and fun; my car has new squeaks and rattles and my body feels like it just stepped-off one of those old, torturous, exercise machines.
I can’t wait for the ride home just to have another work-out.
Then….a trip to the bank which, right now, is a stressful situation because Wachovia has been taken over by…Wells Fargo; I hate this bank which I’ve re-named..Wells Forego. For the last few months, WF has instituted tactics that rival any of Big Brother from George Orwell’s novel, 1984. Constant messages, electronic and snail-mail about “Wells Fargo is coming…are you ready?” have been overwhelming. Give me a break here WF…comfortable transition?
Apparently, I’m not the only bank customer with concerns of both a personal and business nature; from what I’ve been hearing, people have been opting for a move to other local banks given the pretty poor track record that Wells Forego has gathered for itself. When I pulled into the bank today with business deposits, the lot was full, some people double-parked so..I opted for the drive-up window.
Big, big mistake…. 
The line stretched into eternity and, at the very beginning was a tiny car driven by a headless, elderly driver, with two more stuffed into the back seat. You could just make out their little grey heads, bobbing back and forth.
There ARE two more people in the back seat…you can’t see them, they’re hunched down.
My car windows were all open, I was enjoying the warm day with temps in the 70’s when I noticed a small ruckus going on between the car occupants and the bank teller which could be heard over the drive-up loudspeaker.
Bank policy is..No More Than 3 Transactions At Window…but each person in the car had…3 transactions. See where I’m going with this? The arguing continued as I sat, for 25 minutes, and watched the senior juvies win the drive-up banking battle.
In the meantime, I texted a few friends, smoked a cigarette (don’t tell my hubs) and looked in my rear view mirror, only to see the woman behind me doing this….
Once done, she flung her used floss out the window of her big Chevy Suburban; a real class act.
Behind her was a scary-looking creature in his work van who randomly blew his horn; behind him were more cars than I could see and this dude wanted to back-up and get out of the line but no one would let him. Sitting in line so long, I felt like I was getting to know him so I decided to bestow a nickname which matched his looks and personality….
Finally!
It was my turn and I rolled in front of the bank window, slipped my deposits into the drawer. Inside, one of the new Wells Forego clan could be seen milling around the bank, overseeing all the old Wachovia staff. As the teller looked over my deposit, this doofy-looking moron, wearing a shirt with buttons ready to pop-off, and no identifying name tag, reached over and grabbed the cash from my deposit, holding $100 bills up in front of him.
Hold on a minute, excuse me??
Let me explain…there has been a rash of counterfeit bills circulating here in New York over the last few months; everything I deposit is triple-checked, for authenticity and..I copy all of the bills on the printer before I hit the bank.
Why?
Had an experience a few years ago with the Bank of New York where an employee switched bills at the bank window. She advised me that she “would have to confiscate the money as it was bogus” after I handed her my deposit. I protested and the bank manager came over, closed down the teller’s window, advising me that the bills would be checked and they would immediately contact me when the determination was made. What I didn’t know at the time was that the teller in question had been under close observation for weeks; the bank’s security camera caught her switching my deposit with bills she had hidden in her sleeve that were…counterfeit.
Needless to say…that teller soon became history.
Meanwhile, back at Wells Forego…I let the big jerk inside the bank know that I was not pleased with his money-grabbing actions and held up my usual list of currency copies of my deposit, advising him that each bill had been extra, super-duper, carefully checked. Mr. Ugly, in line behind Floss Woman, kept tapping on his horn while I continued with my offensive against Doofy Man. My deposit was finalized, with receipt in hand, I headed back to my office where…my computer had frozen.
Waving an imaginary white flag, I surrendered, picked up my belongings and left work early deciding to look for potholes to drive into on the way home.
It was that kind of day; is it over yet??
