The Bank

There wasn't an American in the place.

I know, I know, you're never supposed to step into the bank! And I don't!

But today I did.

My excuse?

It was on my way, on my route back to Santa Monica, I needed some cash from the machine, and some...euros and pounds.

I know, I know, I can use the ATM when I get there, even change money at the airport, but I figured I'd go inside and see what's up.

What's up is there's not a customer in the place, but everybody's on the phone, doing...what?

Finally I interrupt the head honcho, because he's the only one who didn't look dazed and confused. He said I could order them, they didn't have them in stock, and they'd come in two days.

Voila!

But what time would they arrive?

In the morning, by FedEx.

But then he hesitated. He told me to shoot for Friday. And that was too late.

But I could drive to Beverly Hills and get my money right now!

Sounds good. But before I go...

Did they really have the cash?

So he interrupts one of the underlings, who mumbles like he's been awoken from sleep, and they make me sit in a chair while he calls the branch to see if they've got it.

He says they do.

So where exactly is it?

On Wilshire. By Beverly Drive.

The southeast corner?

No.

And here's where I realize this guy couldn't read a compass to save his life. Was it above or below Wilshire? Below. So, it's southeast... NO!

So he's got Internet access and he pulls up the map and of course it's the southeast corner but he's still maintaining it's north of Wilshire and I hightail it out of there. Oh, I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I don't think they let you do that at a bank, they're afraid you're gonna rob the place.

So I drive to Beverly Hills.

I know this is stupid, I know I'm wasting time, but I'm on a mission.

And I hit gridlock, but eventually I get to my destination.

Whereupon I can't communicate with the valet parker and the guy waiting for the elevator looks like he last ate in Biafra and is wearing a knit cap. Huh? It's a thousand degrees out!

So I get inside the bank...

And everybody's on the phone. But I interrupt the biggest honcho I can find who immediately gets off, it was like interrupting Chevy Chase on SNL, it was obviously a personal call.

And he walks me to the teller...whereupon I know I'm gonna have trouble.

He's got an unpronounceable name. But that's not what's bothering me, it's Jose hovering over his shoulder. Obviously, this guy is in training.

Everybody in America is in training. Doing low-paying jobs they're dying to quit, which they do, as soon as they can. So everywhere you go, from the bank to McDonald's, you find clueless people. You've been there a zillion times before, YOU could do their job, you want to jump over the counter and be done with it.

But no, you wait as this guy makes his mistakes. You correct him, but he still gets it wrong.

And then he wants my phone number.

Huh?

It's my money! I already swiped my ATM card... I'm just sick of having to provide a lifetime's worth of data to buy a stick of gum.

So I motion for Jose, the big shot.

I figured he grew up in L.A., there are a lot of Joses here.

But no, his accent is just about as heavy. He tells the teller no phone number is required.

And I'm waiting so long for my money, I figure I'd be better off going home and printing it myself.

But I eventually get it, and bolt out of there, even though now I'm dying to pee.

And when I get to the valet car park, to give them my validated ticket, that's when I notice... The two women who look like they're ready to be on TV but obviously are not. Wearing the high-heeled shoes and the slinky dresses and the big sunglasses even though we're underground. And that's when it occurs to me, ever since I exited my car I've seen not one Anglo, except for the paint-stained guys getting into their van.


--
Visit the archive: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/
--
http://www.twitter.com/lefsetz
--
If you would like to subscribe to the LefsetzLetter,
http://www.lefsetz.com/lists/?p=subscribe&id=1

If you do not want to receive any more LefsetzLetters, http://lefsetz.com/lists?p=unsubscribe&uid=0eecea7b60b461717065cbde887c8e25

To change your email address http://lefsetz.com/lists?p=preferences&uid=0eecea7b60b461717065cbde887c8e25




--
Powered by PHPlist, www.phplist.com --