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June 12th, 2002 |
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I went to the bank at lunch today to transfer some money from one account to another. Sounds like a simple transaction eh? Not so my friends. I entered the rope barricade corral with the rest of the sheep, and waited for my turn. There were 6 tellers on duty, 2 of which were male. Of the 4 female tellers, I saw only one who had the firm body of investment knowledge that I look for… when transferring funds. Luck was with me today, and when my turn came, I was directed to the teller with the nice asset management skills. I puffed my chest out ever so slightly, and explained to her what I needed to do. She smiled. I smiled. Things were going well. Then she just kept on smiling. She didn’t pick up a pen, nor did she grab a form to fill out. The silence grew thick with awkwardness. Maybe she didn’t hear me? I repeated to her that I needed to “T-R-A-N-S-F-E-R S-O-M-E F-U-N-D-S”. This time she gave me a confused “O… K…” and started looking anxiously around the room. I’m no bankologist, but this should be simple right? Wrong. Five minutes later I was no closer to my goal. The sack of hammers behind the counter was having problems sharpening a pencil. I shook my head in disappointment, my vision of her now crushed. Good looks won’t get you too far when you’re dumber than a mute potato. Her performance only improved from there. I stared incredulously as she absent-mindedly drew little swirls on my transfer slip. Hello? I’m still here right? I think it’s great that my bank has an equal opportunity policy for idiots, but seriously, this girl had less I.Q. than the alphabet. Does anyone understand how these people get jobs? I finally broke down, filled out the form myself, and told her where to initial it. Unbelievable. Smarter than a sack of hammers
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