Wednesday, March 24, 2004

I just got totally strong-armed by two tall, nordic, impossibly thin, extremely serious teller ladies at the bank I go to. I gave the one my paycheck and asked to get some money back (a miniscule amount which was MORE than covered by the amount I already had in my account) and she did that serious, no-making-eye-contact, undertone thing where she says "Just a moment" and rings for "customer service" -- who was conicidentally another Swedish-looking chick with the same vaugely European but still hard to place acccent (they're probably both from Des Moines) and who walks (glides) over and tells me in a v. concerned voice that I should have direct deposit. Now, I've got nothing against Direct Deposit and to tell the truth I kind of prefer it but seriously it was like the fate of the free world was at stake here.... Or maybe they just really want me to never come into thier bank again. I probably make the place look tired. Weird. Anyway, there is a tiny round picture of me in the street version of the Bay Guardian. I am apparently "sex-positive." Nice to know. I wonder if that's code for "Never going to get laid again?"

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