dixiblog

The phone rings and I scan the caller ID. It’s my bank. That’s never good, if your bank is calling you, is it? With some trepidation, I search my brain for ideas about why they may be calling, but nothing comes to mind. So I sigh just a little, inside, and answer it.

The lady introduces herself, and then continues, “We’ll be having some representatives in the Eudora area tomorrow to visit with our business customers, and was wondering when they might stop by to visit with you?”

What? They will have representatives in the area? How many businesses are there in this town that use them anyway? And what is this? A poll? And besides, we’re 7 miles away from them. They have to make a special day to come out here? What the fuck is this woman talking about, anyway?

“Uh, I’m not going to be in tomorrow, actually.” It was true and everything. Granted, it was a lunch date and I could have worked around it. I didn’t want to.

“Well, when would be a better time for you?”

Oh. Well, it’s not like it’s a random “how-we-doing” thing, like she made it sound. And it’s not “visiting some business customers.” She meant visiting me. Uh…

“Is there something wrong?” I just don’t get where this is going.

“No, nothing like that. We just want make sure we’re meeting your needs and you’re getting all the services possible to help you.”

Oh…Help me? It’s a sales call! (I’m still not sure what they want to sell, but I know the code, man.)

I didn’t know I had needs to be met by the bank. I thought they just held my money and let me use their Visa/Debit cards. Hell, if I’d known they were there to meet my NEEDS, I would have been much more demanding. Where’s my validation? Where’s my positive affirmations? Where’s my Bath & Bodyworks gift set? I have needs, damnit!

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t want to.”

“May I ask why?”

“Well, because I don’t feel the need to do this now. I have lots of business stuff going on, and I don’t know for sure what direction everything will take. I don’t want to do this at this point.” Which is also true. But I can’t rightly envision myself wanting to meet with bank representatives any time soon. I mean, c’mon.

They’re going to come over to my house? Me in my Tye-die tee and hootchie mama shorts, padding barefoot around my house. Them in their business suits with their shiney briefcases? They’ll be talking about interest rates or something while I wipe whipped cream from my coffee off my nose? It just doesn’t work for me.

 It took me a good four hours to realize why they actually called; with my low-carb site, I’ve had some actual money being deposited in my business account. (I got it to cash checks made out to my design business, but seldom used it before.) They saw some money going through there and wanted a piece of it. Or something like that.