my bank do thangs that your bank wish it could

due to my current life of leisure and the fact that FZV is off ice (that lasted a whole three weeks), i was able to sleep on a luxurious deck last night, actually see insecure and not just listen to the podcast summation, and i got some steps in this morning walking my friend to work.

i meandered through side streets and when i made to king, the streetcars were all backed up, of course, so i headed to queen street to go home that way instead. there’s a cibc on queen and spadina, and i had to get cash out for therapy, and decided to do the adult thing and order my cheques at the same time.

why, pray tell, do i need cheques? because i finally used up the last of my original set (from university) and my landlord cannot figure out an e-transfer. i could get out cash every month, but then i’d have to make an appointment to see him because i’m not leaving my rent cash in the letter box with no proof that it reached. i decided last week that i would just do it, and try to get him to split the cost with me, because you have to order 50 at a time, and the cost ends up being $55 or something like that, which seems insane to me, but it is antiquated technology.

the tellers were very nice to me, even though i was in yesterday’s outfit and had no eyebrows, and the woman was telling me that it would be $20 and that seems more reasonable. i figured that that could be wrong, but she seemed confident, so i went with it. she ordered them, and then someone else swooped in and was appalled because the cost is indeed $55, and he pre-offered a full refund for them when i get charged for them, even though i wasn’t angry at all.

contrast this with scotiabank, with whom i have a TFSA because my former employer banks with them and they advertised savings accounts that would be good for us, and for the most part it hasn’t been a problem, but in the last month, when i adjusted the amount of my contribution due to my status, i have gotten spotty and shitty service, and i have to go in in person because the money is coming from my account at a different bank. i have been jerked around in person, on the phone, and over email, kept waiting for inordinate amounts of time, had to travel across time and told wrong information from a different person every time because they keep quitting, and nothing has been offered to me at all, not even some freakin’ movie tickets and you know they own that whole scenepoints racket. maybe they’re going through some growing pains because they are trying to prove that they are diverse and shit. they may have gained a stadium, but to me, they are acting the exact same way as the empire that has a monopoly on that stadium.

since i’ve been considering long-term relationships and choices to stay and leave in situations, i’m glad for this sign that yes, i’m good with my bank not just because it’s been the only one, but because it still works.

money isn’t everything, but it’s not nothing, and where you keep it matters.

jklol, i’m totally that tita that stuffs cash in socks and shit. maybe that’s why this b thinks i don’t have a credit card.

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letters from a nut-ted l. nancy

coincidence that i read about jerry seinfeld‘s web series comedians in cars getting coffee on the day that i madly scramble to get my copy of all new letters from a nut to the library? i think not.

it was terry o’reilly who recommended it on the under the influence podcast, and i admit, it was good for a few laughs.

i was just starting to think that perhaps jerry seinfeld was ted l.nancy (especially after the “thanks to jerry seinfeld-he does more than anyone knows”) dedication in one of the epilogues.

just googling “is jerry seinfeld ted l. nancy?” yields a link to the webseries that i was meaning to check out anyway, and this:

barry marder cramming himself into a car to demand pie

bigups to seinfeld for these short videos where he gets to talk funny with (i presume) friends and drive nice cars. thanks for reminding us to carve a niche in this world. nehal-i got graph paper today, and i’m looking at you.

smile when you’re lying-chuck thompson

“you know this area is full of flight attendants, right? in my building alone, there’s 80 of us”

“i’m looking for something for my boyfriend-he hasn’t eaten all day. he’s allergic to nuts, but he’s black, so he likes chicken, haha.”

“that’s the kind of shit that makes you tired, you know? i was never this tired in trinidad.”

and the moral of the story is…don’t date white people (unless you’re white-then, go for it. more for you). it’s never worked out for me because invariably, some scenario like the middle quote arises, and someone gets accused of blowing things out of proportion or having a bad/negative attitude. customer service is also a place of occasionally being forced to be in relationships where you have to grin and bear it, and it’s nice to have multiple partners in this large dysfunctional relationship. barbara ehrenreich‘s talk on her book bright-sighted for the seattle public libray podcast was illuminating because it articulated that corporate structures are successful when people are kept unhappy (and feeling powerless) rather than experiencing actual job satisfaction and the space to be creative, that’s why entrepreneurs have their own category of business (and bankruptcy services). this one was a customer recommendation, and was a quick read that was interesting enough though rubbed me the wrong way with its flippant attitude towards “whores”.

“Those reflections piled up in notebooks and those notebooks eventually led to a dog-eared epiphany. I wanted to write about travel the way I experienced it, not the way the travel business wants readers, wants you, to imagine it is. The presumption that readers have the intellectual curiosity of a squirrel monkey and the moral range of an Amish yam farmer has worn thin. This book is a small effort to correct the travel industry’s bias against candor and honesty. Or at least a way to pay it back for both the good times and the trouble it’s given me.” (9)

“As one of Juneau’s handful of African Americans, Rob was affectionately known as ‘Rabdul,’ a brotherly rendering of his name in the grand tradition of it-isn’t-racist-it’s-funny racism. Rabdul didn’t seem to mind. He played along, even called himself Rabdul, though whether this was out of good humor or self-preservation in snow-white Alaska I don’t care now to speculate.” (59)

“If you aren’t tipping hotel maids, you need to start. Tipping is a lousy system-business owners should pay their employees a living wage, not force them to beg from paying customers for tips they ‘depend on to make a living’-but we’re stuck with it. As long as we are, it’s never criminal not to recognize that hotel maids work much harder than the valets, bellhops, and coffee slingers who get showered with tips every time they lift an eyebrow. Since maids generally exist farther down the socioeconomic ladder, they need the money more, anyway.” (217)

a big shoutout tonight to my coworkers this evening, some of my favorite folks, the couple that dropped off a red velvet cupcake for me last night (i don’t know who they are because they left it with one of my favorite coworkers who forgot it in his locker overnight and didn’t get their names) and one of my best mom and baby teams that stopped in to gift me with some gorgeous dark teal leather gloves that fit like…well, there’s a reason for the expression, right? i am a great-full jerk, really. i promise.