Something yesterday was telling my intuitive mind "to get thee to the bank" quickly. This quickening process gave me an immediate call to action; to go straight to the bank while I was doing my downtown shopping yesterday. This is an amazing thing; women's intuition. Must be innate. Having gone to a special drug store in the city core to purchase a special item only to be found in this one particular store; calcium pills. Bones get old, and I was hoping to allay the ravages of time with a good attitude and pills to offset the many harms the environment can dish. It would take about five minutes and I would be out of the store on my main mission of buying groceries for the week. My son was driving me around as our van was broken. A gasline leak occured after being towed out of a snowbank this past winter. Money is tight, so the van would wait for next month's income to repair the beast of burden.
Putting the items on the counter, I had just gotten to the cash register, using my debit card and "ka-ching"! My bank account was not accessible; I had to go to the bank now, and I was limited for time. For some reason or other, my account was not working. I thought I had pressed the correct keys. Today's calm mood was not to prevail for long. Notta. Not to be. Something was going akimbo with my account. What was it? There should have been money in there, plenty. At least enough to last the grocery month. I have no way of buying food for the next two weeks!
Going to the instant-teller (still use this word, just like I say "data" instead of "dada")ok, the ATM, and I punched in my access code (no kiss and tell here folks!). Anyway, to make a long story shorter, I went into the bank teller to find out what was wrong. Why I had punched in the right numbers, what was going on?
Assuming that the problem would be quickly cleared up and a complete status quo reinstatement of a new pin number, I was elated that the foray to the bank would be time sensitive, a quick "in and out". However, the bank teller told me that there was a lot of problems with the account, a lot of "anomalies" happening, and I should seriously check on what was happening with my account.
That morning, I felt all chipper, the sun was a huge glorious ball of light yellow luminosity shining inches above my head on the lazy tree-lined street where I live. Everything was "skipping on cobblestone" a dream-perfect day. Almost. After I had the glum news from the naive yet wispish teller, I felt my face contorting somewhat.
I felt my heart fall to where my sagging breasts are and it did not feel good.
There were a least six incongruities with my account; money was taken out continually and I had only money left for one week's groceries. Oh no, the hub is not going to be happy with me. I screwed up!
After going over my monthly statement; the bank wanted one dollar for a print out. Not wanting to give one more cent to an institution that I felt was pulling a Brutus, so I got the monthly print out from the ATM. I came back to the same teller as the bank was not busy to conclude the inaccuracies and get on with my harried and very hectic day. My son had other business to do, and I only had one hour to do the shopping for the week. I began to change my mood at this point and felt quite dour and circumspect.
How was I going to find out the culprit, which multi-conglomerate Big Daddy company that was so unfairly dipping into my money tree? Who could fiscally rape me in this way?
After noting the company, I noticed that it was an old Insurance company I was doing business with at least six months ago. Finding the term policy to be redundant it would not be accumulating any nest egg, a waste of money. The fact that I would have to die in a plane, train or automobile for my beneficiaries to receive any cash payout, I thought the numbers game not in my favour. What would be the accuarian numbers 1/26 million? More than redundant, it was not affordable for me, even though it sounded inexpensive at the time. After a few months of consideration I opted out. I called the company and cancelled. That, I thought, was the end of the story.
The bank at this point in true Caesarian fashion washed their hands of the incident saying it is not our company. What's this? Purchasing the policy originally because of the name, the same name as the bank the insurance company! It has the same bank logo plastered all over the policy! However, apparently, and according to the clerk, the insurance company is a separate "division" and therefore immune to any hands on handling of my account.
This confounded and dumbfounded me, I was in a state of shock. Let's hypothesize, what if I won the 26 million tonight? I put the money in the bank and tomorrow it was gone because of "policy" or some other form of despotic ruling? How is this action which is totally unfair was justified by the Lords of the Bank? How would I redress the bank's billionaire accountants with their corporate lawyers and unlimited banking money? It all makes sense now, I'm on the other side of the counter, I'm the customer, the foreign entity, the person non-grata, the sucker.
As I was not sure how "arms length" a company can be when the logo is clearly announcing it's pride of ownership everywhere, I became more confused. I demanded to speak with the manager. Once at the manager's desk I was reserved, polite to a fault. All the while holding back any coursing animosity within. I would hold onto this seat of power for potential latent legalize arsenal. Calmly I asked to speak with the manager, and business-like I waited my turn to state my case.
"Oh, we don't handle the Insurance end of the business, you will have to call this number." the manager trainee told me. Well at least I have the number now I thought to myself. If there is any power in numbers, let it come up Aces. The money game may have changed since I was a young executive secretary. Somehow, over time, rules relax, maybe they warp. Today was showing me how much money and hence power I do not have, and never will. I was told this by a male member of a potentiate. A star system beyond my reach.
To conceive of the feeling of lack of personal monetary power sway, is like understanding what a chick will look like as a chicken. There is a pecking order to all this. I just do not like my unwaivering position on the totem pole. Predestinated, predestined, unchangeable placement in society where there is not a lot of unward mobility for my kind. a kind that is not the pink-collared mold, but a multihued dinosaur of nonprivledged, good old boys club mentality. Push those ceilings!
It became crystal clear now. Not only did I feel I was being made into a nobody in a separate world where only money talks, I felt used because I was not graced with an abundance of cash flow. Would they respect me more if I were a millionaire, a billionaire? Maybe not. Maybe then I would be used even more. Somehow, some other entity, this thing, had and wanted all the power. The soul sucker. The entity that ruined my day by their faulty policy and wrong-thinking.
In this fiscal world I felt dispossessed. If I represented to the monetary scrutinizers an entity of nonpower, it certainly felt I was that entity. Something to be mowed over like a lawn that was trying to get green. For me there was no septred sway, no present or future potential to make hay not from my limiting ranks of the subcultured society. The majority of people. Only 2 percent of the population at any time are the banking gods. For me it felt that me and money were never to be; not not ever, no happy ending, no cinderella beginnings. Forget the dream! What a laugh! When the lottery? You just know that is set up too. It is all fake. We were given a false passport to a life of capitalism we will never achieve. A false dream. Soul killers!
At least in this game of today I still possess on thing. Belief in myself; that I have intrinsic worth not measured by the monetary ruler. Happy Capitalism? Well for those thus groomed and weaned on mother's change purse, yes. For all this falling down upon, being disadvantaged, the kings men could not put together again the feelins of disrespect I felt being thus denuded of my money so unfairly so. And feeling so wholly disadvantaged I was not going to let it ruin my day. This evil, seething, robot-drone of a machine called The Banking Industry had no heart.
The power ball was now in my court. The first swing; "May I use the phone". "Oh we dont usually do this, but I will see if there is a phone available" the manager trainee mentioned to me. Oh great! An office was freed up even though it looked orginally like every single office was unoccupied. The office were uncluttered, basically empty with just a few token pictures of sweet children lining the cold steel feel. I kept thinking "Where are all the people" doing business in this church of Mammon? If this is a banking cold war a certainly felt the Big Chill. What the heck is going on in the cloistered banking havens of monetary machinery? The maven ravens must be coming in for the kill. I felt like i was their victim, a martyr to the cause of free enterprise and democracy. What is fair in Love, War and The Banking System? Not much.
In another 24 seconds, I was about to unleash a fury of legalize linguistic rebuttals upon the person at the other end of the phone. Calmly and succinctly taking my place in the anals of Jane versus the Industry Giants. This was a outrage! How dare they take advantage of the already dyed-in-the-wool disadvantaged? They would not be able to pull any more wool over my eyes! No way!
After the game of telephone tag finally relented; I felt a bit better. It it did take about fifteen minutes to get to talk to the right person in the right department as I was being diverted on an endless merry-go-round circle route. Routine tactics of confuse, confound and delay. Strategic! Maybe I could consider this lapse in time as my cooling off period. A time to get it all together, to sort the many fragmented pieces of the mess this banking fiasco cost me today and left me feeling soulfully inadequate, like a pariah.
What was I was going to say, more importantly, how was I going to say it? Too bad I left my glasses at home, but I was so nervous, I probably would not find them in my hobo purse, the fumbling fingers stumbling over a mass of items unrelated. My mind was on overdrive trying to tackle this "little" problem.
Finally I'm on the batphone to the irreverant Insurance company's main operative; the Supervisor. Someone with a name, well at least a first name with no number tag. They insist on first name basis only. How personal, how intimate. How occulding the fact I want a full name and number. Why does it feel like I am talking to a stripper? I thought professiionals had last names and employee numbers? Not in the world of fiscal management. They play by other rules. The question; who's rules?
My concern about this recent banking fiasco was more about who was doing the funneling, or diverting funds, creating a nice slush fund for themselves, or basically screwing my account blue or rather red. If I had serious bills, I would be sunk. Yet I do have bills at the end of the month, this was the midway point, the middle of the month, the dry bone period. Who was trying to sink my battleship now? To collapse my fiscal managerial system of the poverty ridden?
I became another fiscally collapsed member of the no credit no money personae? Does the banking system always choose to pick on the little guy? The struggling masses should become outraged! Who was this other entity who could at random pick and choose who they plan to attack in this way? It seemed to me to be highly irregular and potentially suspect of illegal intent.
Would they like me to call the fraud squad? It has not been the first time banks have taken great liberties with other peoples' money to such great extent. How many times do banks take money from unsuspecting accounts (dare I say people?) without ever having to pay a penalty in default. And yet, the very moment you are but one second late in your payment that month, you are toast, teats up on the ceiling, fried, regurged without recourse. And what about all those huge bank fees mounting to the sky! Banks use to be a "service" to the public, now, like the phone industry, absolutely nothing is free and ever action has service fees above and beyond month fees already exorbinantly high. Take this into account and the fact they are getting richer while the poor get poorer. Makes sense now. What we have here is not only a failure to communicate, but a failure to understand; we are dealing with a megaglot, a monolith of a behomoth, a fiscal dictatorship. Citizens alert!
Maybe I was thinking the recent banking collapse in the States, or maybe I was thinking, somebody is skimming from my account to pay for their hedgefund that tanked. Or maybe their Carribean vacation with their other lover. All in all, I was highly suspect of this game company execs were playing and I was going to get to the bottom of it. Nobody was going to hoodwink me anymore. Nobody was going to play that game; those coy games known so well to the professional world of banking "diplomacy".
After talking to a junior clerk at the Insurance company, I was adamant and determined to get my money back. After confirming my name and address and other incidental information, I was told I would get my money back in two weeks, exactly the end of the month. I said that's it? No apology? I demanded an apology. The woman at the other end apologized, sheepishly. "On behalf of 'so and so' bank insurance company I apologize." Wow. This is the first time I was ever given a real apology when I was unfairly victimized by a profession. I felt good. I felt like I could get on with my day, and try to convince my husband that I did not spend all the money on a new pair of plastic clogs!jajo 13 May 09