Bank of America at 32nd & St. Paul

I wanted to go on a real bike ride today, but it was windy and rainy, and I just didn’t have it in me for that kind of ride. But I did manage to take the bike up and down the hill to the Bank of America at 32nd and St. Paul to finally close out my account now that my credit union account is all up and running and I finally have my direct deposit business sorted out. I was the fourth person on the list to close my account today. I waited for Patricia-You-Can-Call-Me-Trish to finish opening up that new account, and then it was my turn. She looked so disappointed in me. She told me about volunteering at a soup kitchen and hearing that Bank of America was the largest donor to the charity. She asked me why I was leaving, and she made me tell her, even though I didn’t really feel like telling her. I mean, it’s not her fault. She’s worked at the bank for 30 years, and she walked me through every different bank that it had been as one after another was gobbled by conglomerate after conglomerate. She told me about all the other volunteer work her coworkers do, how the media only reports the bad stuff, that most credit unions are Bank of America customers anyway, and on and on and on. It was like trying to quit the gym in that one Friends episode. I just smiled, nodded, waited, got my cash in an envelope, and washed my hands of it. Except that there’s no way to deal cleanly with money, no matter where you bank. But it doesn’t get much dirtier than good old BofA. I stumbled around in the rain, buying presents for the nephews and getting lunch, and then I rode home. I leave on a train tomorrow, so no more bike rides until next week. I think I can, I think I can.

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