Thursday, June 2, 2011

The Chemicals in Your Hair Must Have Killed Your Brain Cells.

Last night, I dropped an f-bomb on my dad.

I couldn’t help it.  It just came out. 

The weird thing was, in my head I was like, “Say freaking…  Say freaking…” but my mouth still said, “fucking idiots.” 

For the most part, I don’t sensor what I say in front of or to my parents.  We’re kind of friends and I don’t want there to be a moment ten years from now when they realize I wasn’t being honest about myself to them. 

They know I’m not exactly an angel.  And they know where I get it from.

Both of them have some pretty inventive choice words.  But neither of them use “fuck” that much.  Part of it I think is a generational thing.  My mom was also brought up to believe that word was fairly unacceptable, so she saves to use for special occasions only.

On the upside, my dad didn’t really react at all. 

Probably because he could tell I was so pissed I was trying not to cry.

A few years ago, I got a new car.  Like, new, new.  I’ve been paying every month for it and will probably continue to do so for probably several more years.  Then, I will not buy another car until I am trying to use my feet to push it around like a Flintstone.

The fat, greasy guy who was drawing up the paperwork at 6:30 on a Sunday night decided he’d rather talk to my dad about golf (I’m not even joking; he spent 20 minutes trying to convince my dad to go golfing with him) than complete my paperwork properly.

My parents co-signed on the car and requested their names be put on the registration with mine in case they decided I was being irresponsible or defaulted on my payments (I got the car right before I moved in with Bambi and during a time when I wasn’t really known for being dependable).  However, the loan was supposed to be in my name so that I could build my credit.

Greasy Golfer put the loan in my dad’s name.

Maybe he had a crush on him.  I don’t know.

I had to wait at least a year after I started building credit (in some way other than the car loan that was supposed to do it in the first place) to be able to transfer the loan into my name.  I’ve been building credit for over two years and, since I’m moving soon, I’m trying to transfer the loan.

The only way to do that is to open an account in my name and refinance the loan.

Two weeks ago I called the credit union through which the dealership did the loan to find out exactly what I needed to open an account and get the ball rolling on a transfer.

Friday was the first chance I had to go because I finally finished night classes last week, so I went to the credit union and was told I couldn’t open an account without my social security card, which I was not told over the phone.

Yesterday, I went in again.  (Mind you, it’s a huge inconvenience for me to try to get to this place after work because it’s completely on the other side of town from my office and I have to cross one of the busiest intersections in town at 5:00 PM to be able to get there.)  I had my social security card and driver’s license, as directed.

I walked up to the teller and told her I needed to open an account. 

Her response was, “Do you have an account with us?”   


This is the kind of stupid I will apparently be forced to not only deal and coexist with for the rest of my life, but will also be in competition with me for jobs.  I don’t get it.  How do these people even brush their teeth?

Maybe this is what happens to those little kids who constantly pick their boogers.  Their brains disappear, piece by piece, out their noses.  Just a thought.

“No, I don’t.  I need to open one.” 

“What’s your social?  I’ll look up and make sure you don’t already have one open with us.”  Am I really the only halfway intelligent being to ever set foot in this place?

I gave Dipshit (as I will affectionately refer to her from now on) my social because, to be honest, it was either that or punch her in the tit.  And I’m pretty sure if I did the latter, they would throw me out of the bank and I’d never get the damn loan in my name.

Dipshit taps away at her computer for a minute.  “No, you don’t have an account with us.”   

Surprise, surprise.

Dipshit then indicates a person sitting at a desk across the room talking to two customers.

“You have to talk to our loan officer to open the account.  She’s currently helping customers (she said “customers” in a way that almost directly said “which you are not”).  I don’t know how long she’ll be and we close at 5:30 (25 more minutes), so I don’t know if she’ll be able to help you today.  If you want you can make an appointment or you can call to make one.  Would you like one of our cards?”

Dipshit wants me to make an appointment.  To open a fucking account.  Isn’t my opening an account something they actually WANT?  And why do I want to make an appointment when I’ve already been TWICE?  Dipshit, I just want you to put my name, address, and social in your little computer, take my money, and tell me my account has been opened.  Then give a receipt with the account balance on it, because I don’t trust you not to steal it.  You seem that stupid.

“No.  If I need the phone number, I can just Google it.”  Which was my almost polite way of saying, “No.  I don’t actually want to open an account here, and I don’t want to touch a business card that could potentially contaminate my flesh with your stupidity.  Or Chlamydia.  Or whatever it is you have.”

I quickly started stalking out before I could start my involuntary angry cry.

Dipshit called after me.  “Have a nice day!”

“You, too.”  Somehow it sounded more like, “Fuck you, Dipshit whore” in a kind-of almost friendly coating.

But maybe that was only to me.


  1. I tried not to laugh, really I did, but your depiction of horrible moments I understand all to well was fabulous! Especially the punching her in the tit part. Oh, imagery, I heart you.

    Can you use a different bank then? I loath when my patronage is not appreciated. I had that problem at a bank here... she needed to know my source of income before giving me an account! And of course since I'm going to school and working odd jobs on the side, I had no answer for her. And then was completely stumped when I had none to give her. She just kept asking and staring at her computer screen. What was I supposed to tell her? 'I'm a prostitute, I'd like to put my sticky bills in your bank'? Psh, at least in the states the banks don't care where your money comes from.

  2. Well, congrats on finishing up classes!

    Loans are stupid. Credit unions are stupid. My husband bought a car before he met me and had some serious debt from it. When we sold it so that we didn't have to choose between eating and making the ridiculously high payment every month, it was like pulling big jagged ugly teeth out of a neanderthal. They were dumbfounded that we wanted to close our account, and horrified that we didn't want to just refinance and drag the whole ordeal out a few more years.
    I nearly got arrested for cursing at a lady in a periwinkle suit with shoulder pads. Oh, and the credit union was in WALNUT CREEK, which as you know, is not a convenient drive from Chico.

    So, fuck credit unions.

  3. This is really surprising, since I thought banks esp. Credit Unions valued their customers. You putting your pile of money in their bank gives them access to your money, enabling them to give out loans and help the community. I always assumed credit unions were good, let us hope that your experience was uniquely negative.

    The one bank I would stay away from at all costs is Wells Fargo. They charged a friend of mine $5 just to cash a security deposit for their past apartment. They wasted an entire hour of her time trying to get her to sign up with them. They directed her to different people in the bank, each person giving the same spiel. She eventually gave up and paid the $5 to cash the damn check. Once she had her money she yelled at everyone in the bank. "This is a horrible bank, never bank here!" Something along those lines.

    I have actually heard of people not trusting banks with their money. Quite rightly so, the Feds could wipe our accounts whenever they wanted to. These non-trusting people usually put money under their mattress or bury the money underground. Most likely these people are drug dealers, but they have the right idea.

    Good luck, I hope you are able to find a decent bank. Why not bank with someone more local? I hate the downtown area personally. That is stupid how they need to see your social security card. I have mine memorized of course. Along with my drivers license # and car's license plate #. Producing a fake SS card would be easy. There is no real good reason for them to check that. They do not need to physically see it. All they need is the freaking number. Yeah they are retarded. Oh wait... I mean special. I have to be politically correct here.

  4. @Cheryl-- It's okay. It was meant to be kind of funny. I firmly support schadenfreude. I would love to take it somewhere else. I just don't know if I can at this point. I suppose I'll have to talk to my dad about it. When I opened my bank account here, they were all over me. It's pretty silly that she just plain didn't understand, though. In the States, the likelihood that the money is stolen, drug money, or from prostitution is probably pretty high. Maybe they're more comfortable not knowing.

    @Patty-- I agree completely. I hate credit unions. Or at least this one. That's pretty retarded, though. Did he purchase the car closer to Walnut Creek, or was the dealership just filled with douchebags waiting to screw him over? Oh, wait. It was a car dealership. Scratch that last question.

    @Anonymous-- That's what I thought. Which was one of many reasons I was super pissed. My parents used to bank at Wells Fargo when I was a kid and hated it. After some of the experiences they had, I would never want to trust them with any of my money. But then, I also have little faith in hiding money under my mattress because I have this funny paranoia about getting robbed.

    I'm not sure what you mean by local? They are local... This is also not my regular bank. I love my regular bank. This is the credit union through which the dealership decided to do my car loan. It's not really downtown; it's off Cypress. It's just a huge pain in the ass because I don't work in town. So it takes me at least 15 minutes to get there and the people I have to deal with in to get there are idiots. All of them.
    It is stupid. I do, too. I think it's pretty much a requirement to be an adult now. I actually have two cards. Bambi used to get on my case about keeping it in my wallet, so I took it out, then forgot I had done so. One day he got pissed and flung the contents of my purse around the living room. I freaked out because I couldn't find the card and I knew I would need it soon since I was job hunting. So I ordered a new card. The day I got the new card, I found the old one in my sock drawer.

  5. Oh you are forced to bank there. Now it all makes sense. I can understand your frustration even more, since you hate this bank and the employees, yet you are stuck. Local to me is like no more than 10 minutes from where I live. I would hate going to the bank even more, if I had to drive all the way into town.

    The chain banks are far worse in general. Let us not forget about Wamu. The bank that not only made bad loans (billions in real estate), but got bought out by JPMorgan Chase for their mistakes. Major chain banks around the country like Bank of America have excessive overdraft fees and other issues. I think local is still the way to go. Ya just gotta pick and choose.

    btw your pushy attitude is great. Now let those dumb bank employees in on it. Let em have it. Let your inner dickins surface in person. ;)

  6. @Anonymous-- Lol you are one of a very small group of people actually encouraging me to be a dick. Rest assured, I was really not nice to the idiot woman and she knew I was not happy. I just think she didn't care. When I receive shitty customer service, I get kinda shitty. When I receive fabulous customer service, I am the nicest person in the world.

    I don't live in the middle of town, so everything is at least 10 minutes from my. My regular bank is a local one. I love them. I am a little concerned about what I'm going to do when I move out of the area because I really don't want to have to go to a different bank.

  7. BTW, I called to make an appointment this morning because I didn't want to deal with Dipshit again. The only options on their automatic answering system are 1) Enter the extension of the person you would like to speak to. 2) Enter the first three letters of the last name of the person you would like to speak to. 3) Call 800 number to speak to someone in customer service about your account.

    I have to take my payment in today. I assume my attitude will be coming with me.

  8. Dare I ask if your PMS ended up all over the bank's counter? haha! I hope you really gave it to them. Reminds me of the time I got pissed at the School Bookstore for wasting my time ordering a book only later to find out that it was back ordered from the publisher. What a giant fucking waste of time. Sure I could shake my fist at them, but it will likely do no good. If they did their job, the book I needed would be in stock. Normally I order online, but I figured for the same price, I could pick it up locally from there.

    "Have a nice Day."... (thought bubble) Yeah fucking drunk ass weirdo (end thought bubble). First of the month at work basically (3rd a Friday) today. Why would you shake my hand twice? I kept thinking of this blog and your chlamydia comment. I washed my hands afterward. Nearly all the customers smelled like alcohol. When I say nearly I mean just a few, but I could tell that people had money and it was Friday. I have an idea lets celebrate and all get drunk. Happy Friday! Woooooooo!

    Anywho, I hope you have a great weekend. You are always a good read. And I also hope your bank fiasco is finally over.

  9. Luckily, there was no need. I had pretty much the nicest teller in the bank, who directed me to the vice president (also super nice). I wish I had taken the name of the woman I had last time. She would probably be fired by now if I had. I haven't used the school bookstore for anything but scantrons in years. I can always find my books cheaper online, with the added bonus of not having to deal with the idiots at the bookstore.

    Haha I'm glad I can help in your daily life? I feel like I'm missing something in your work story, though...

  10. I'll be sad when I move down to Sacramento and can't bank with Member's First anymore. :( They're so awesome.

  11. I think my mom uses them for something and loves them. I'm not excited about changing my bank, either. :(

  12. Well, my bank is a credit union, and credit unions are used by a lot of poor people like me, so they don't really charge you for much of anything.

  13. My bank had some kind of deal going when I opened my account, so the only thing I ever really have to pay for is checks when I need them.

    Crap. I need checks.