So I finally enrolled in my work's direct deposit plan, and it seems like my year-plus of foot dragging reluctance to join the club ended at exactly the right time. Every time I turn on the local news (which, in the interest of full disclosure isn't all that frequently, but often enough so that I don't think this is a coincidence) there's a report about another bank in the area being robbed.
I don't think there's anything that could ruin my lunch break more than being held hostage in a bank robbery. And here I was, running around the city under the assumption that bank robberies as a felony scheme in general had become passe sometime in the 70's, taking my check to the bank every other Friday just because I'm partial to human interaction and dig watching people fidget while they wait in lines. I had been doing all this forever, not even considering that my ass was in danger of being ordered to the floor and then locked in a vault all bound up with duct tape. And then, if I managed to avoid getting shot, and they release me, and the police or whoever take my statement, and it's still only 3:00 - do I have to go back to work? And what happened to my paycheck? Does the bank give me an IOU? Will they give me a note? Because my landlord is totally not going to believe that I was held up in a bank robbery. I'll never have to deal with those issues now though. Nope, direct deposit it is.
I'll miss the bank though. It's weird, I know, but I actually find the place very soothing. Boston has some great banks with seriously iconic architecture, especially downtown, so it's like doing an errand in a living museum. And people crack me up, so I like watching them do weird things with their money, or sing along to the satellite muzak, or make strange requests of the tellers. As an added bonus, no one really goes to the bank anymore for normal stuff, so I'm always in there with some true dyed-in-the-wool oddballs. And they still give out lollipops. Whole baskets of them, just laid out and unattended. I still take a handful like I'm seven, and no one ever says a word. Love the bank. (And I hate ATMs. I just don't trust them. How does it know how much I put in the deposit envelope? What if I typed the numbers in wrong? And -haha irony - I'm always terrified that I'm going to get robbed at an ATM. I feel all exposed.)
And today, as I was waiting to cross State Street to go deposit my check at the bank for the final time, the two guys standing next to me suddenly broke from the curb and darted into traffic - directly in front of a police car. They succeeded in pissing off everyone driving, and failed to use the crosswalk, so I guess they were also technically jaywalking. When they got to the other side of the street, they ran up the sidewalk about 10 yards, then stopped, turned, and gave each other a super-enthusiastic jumping high five. It was the random person moment of the week, and I only saw it...because I was going to the bank. Boo. One more moderately enjoyable activity eliminated from my schedule, thanks to rampant technology and high functioning smack-heads everywhere*. Boo.
*Upon review, I might need to clarify this statement. It is my father's contention that the majority of bank robberies are committed by heroin addicts. I have no idea how true this is, or where the hell his basis for this belief comes from. He's my dad, though, so I believe him. We all have our flaws.
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