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| Let’s just keep on walking, Dad. |
This past Friday, I suffered my first middle school breakup…since middle school. It was rough. It was also, oddly enough, with a bank.
I’ve long touted the fabulousness of Chase Bank’s plethora of ATMs. And sure, that’s about it- but for a little while, it was enough.
My first bank account in Chicago was with them, back in ’02. And yeah, absolutely, back then they were Bank One. But the transition to Chase was easy enough. And I felt loved. Kinda. Even when P.J. and I started a joint account, I kept the Chase one just for the heck of it. There were a few perks. For instance, the air miles [for United, which I abhor flying. But whatever.]
They weren’t the nicest to me, but they certainly looked the other way once or twice when my account suffered the back-breaking transactions that come part n’ parcel with adult braces and a crippling shoe habit.
But this past month, I had twelve dollars removed from my account. Just ’cause. Upon inquiry, it turned out that all accounts without monthly balances of fifteen hundred dollars or hefty (and regular) direct deposits would have twelve dollars removed each month forever.
Now, since arriving here in Chicago, I’ve been a bartender at a crappy bar, a cleaning lady, a nanny for various families around town, and a freelance writer. None of those leave a balance of fifteen hundred dollars, unless you’re going by per year. And direct deposit? Uh, okay. I’ll deposit it directly from my fistful of tens.
I explained this to the smug banker the other day. He nodded and told me that a lot of their customers are closing accounts due to low balances(!) and maybe I should “ask [my] husband to bring the account over to Chase(?!).” Indifference AND condescension? Sounds like a seventh grade boyfriend to me!
When I asked to close my account, he shrugged and didn’t even TRY to keep my business. (Or my love.) He made a big show of handing me the last forty five cents in change (there were a few bills, too) and then stared at me, indicating our business was done.
It got real awkward.
I hate moments like that, which is probably what prompted me to perkily say that maybe I’d see them again in the future.
“Yeah,” he [almost] scoffed. “Maybe.”
But you know what soothes a bad business breakup? A stellar weekend with a husband who thinks my forty five cents are just GREAT. And who tolerates my Supermarket Sweep through the garden section of Home Depot, nodding in agreement when I scream that these ranunculus blossoms ARE AMAZING.
The 80 degree weather yesterday didn’t hurt, either.
And cheering Peej on for the 8k Shamrock Shuffle downtown yesterday was pretty fun, too. I don’t know how he did it. I was wilting standing by the two mile marker. And sure, I was corralling a toddler who celebrated her Dad’s race by peeing directly through all of her clothing and soaking the stroller…but who can’t be appeased by a bag of munchkins and a session with the backyard splash table? (NO ONE.)
P.J.’s folks zipped through town for an overnight, having just enough time to cheer him on, spruce up our yard, stock our fridge, and play with Nora while I showered.
It was GREAT.
Today is a true spring day. Which, normally, would bring rejoicing in our city. But due to yesterday’s August-y weather, I think everyone’s a little sad. There might be a few tears. At least one person might still be defiantly wearing a tank top.
She should probably go change.
After she checks the fridge for leftovers.
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