Pens, Clocks & Flags

By Giggles Anderson

The Constrictor
made several changes.

At the counter,
brochures outlining how to give yourself
more control of your financial future
replaced
offers for small business loans
and introductions to life
after a line of credit.

As if.

No after life.
Just a cold shoulder
from the friends
who still have bubbles
in their underwater loan.

House full? Home less?
Stress is the great equalizer.
Rob Peter. Pay Paul.
Time to file the taxes.

A fee to cash a payroll check?
That was news eight or so years ago.

Not so new?

The search for English language
marketing materials on
opening a new account.

Understandable and excusable.

The new hires will be The Bilingual.
Those who speak the language
of the Economy.

The twin tongues of English and Spanish,
playing nicely with Creole, Portuguese,
French and Russian.

Just imagine the German-speaking
Japanese native who is first picked
to join the Team.

A team headed to China.

Recruiting order matters less
as the Recession turns,
it matters only that
one makes a Team.

How else can one afford Bank fees?

Personally unaware
of the exact check-cashing fee
and painfully aware that I would eat
any mistake in counting out my payroll,
I laid my spread out on the counter.

One Landshark. Two Landshark.

The teller seemed appalled
that I'd be willing
to thumb through a grip
with such openness.

Three Panther. Four Panther.

At the Constrictor,
not counting your money
in front of the teller
means you will be eating
any shortage,
no matter your protestations
of bank error, once you leave
the teller's line of vision.

Five Hurricanes. Six Hurricanes.

So I glanced at her
with a puzzled look of,
"I'm pretty sure $6 is missing,
I could be lunching at Pollo Tropical with that."

"Oh, there is a $6 fee
for cashing a check here
if you don't have an account with us...

Would you like to open an account today?"

I'm so sure
she thought she was saving me
from a parking lot mugging
since I'd clogged up her window
with my silly money counting
and what not.

I wanted her to save me
from the not-so-subtle
window-cupping.

Maybe she could have mentioned
before she cashed the check
that there would be a fee.

Maybe.

But did I give her enough reason
to believe that I hadn't cashed a check
at the Constrictor before or better yet, lately?

After all, it's been at least a fifth of a score
since I'd last set foot inside a Bank.

Too much Dalton,
not enough Walton.

A hint or two might have helped
as I handed over an unsigned check
and a valid ID card.

The Teller, aptly named,
slid the check back
because there was no signature.

No ticket? No laundry.
No endorsement? No cash.

Well she told me.

I signed.
The plexiglass sighed.
The fees got the last laugh.

I was not amused.
It's a tough economy.
What if I really needed the $6?

I could have deposited the check
at the Constrictor and waited a gazillion days
in lieu of paying the $6 fee.

Lou, Lou, Skip to my Lou...

Luckily, I can properly
appreciate a lower fee.

Some banks charge $15.

That's a meal at Pollo Tropical
with coffee and dessert at Starbucks.
Or chicken appetizers,
lemonade and tiramisu
at Segafredos.

Appalling to know that
$15 also buys grain and clean water
for several villages or
provides malaria medicine
to a villager in need.

Developed markets.
Currency wars.
Gotta love em.
From a distance.

I watched as a fortune-counter
behind the plexiglass
fed large-faced bills
into a machine.

One alligator. Two alligator.

There was a time
when the paper
was counted behind closed doors,
in the basement, or side closet.

The casinos still do it that way.
Well at least they do on TV.

Banking in real life
is nothing like
the Monopoly game.

And so I head
to the Credit Union,
with an envelope stuffed
with just enough money to buy
the left shoe of a pair of
Monolo Blahniks.

Credit unions
are usually tucked away
in notoriously discreet
bank buildings.
No all glass banking center.
No marbled pavilion with columns.
No Au Bon Pain in the lobby.

Just a bank and
the implements required
to provide appropriate service.

Kudos for all!

As flags sway
in the afternoon breeze.
Enter soldier-friendly banking
signaling a return to patriotism.
Bankers who encourage our
march to an old, yet familiar drum--
Save more.
Spend less.

The Empire is depending on it.