Act Like A Fool

Alright everyone.  I am going to warn you now about two things.  1: The following story is not one of my shining moments. 2: You should probably pee or grab a Depends before you read this.  Whatever is more convenient for you. Anything in caps was actually yelled.

If you all have been reading this blog for longer than a paragraph I am sure that you have gathered that I am an intense person, however I only get confrontational with people when they mess with my inner circle or my money.  Anyone who messes with either of those things better watch out because I will verbally rip you one so hard that you will need the best plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills to sew your ego back together.  Literally, my eyes roll back into my head and I will channel my mean old Papaw.  People don't know what hit them. It's basically like a really mean tranny takes over my mind because the things I can hurl out of my mouth are completely unparalleled.  

So, this morning, I checked my bank account with, let's call it, Smells Wargo, and a verylargeginormous amount of money that was in my account was no longer accounted for without any explanation or record.  I promptly called my home branch and asked for my branch manager.  I was told he was on paternity leave so, I needed to deal with someone else.  We will call her Whorepitviper from here on out.  Whorepitviper told me that I needed to make an appointment and come in and sit with her, and we can go over everything (this is the first of many mistakes on her part. As Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman: "Big mistake!  HUGE!").  I show up for my appointment and the laundry list of errors made on my account was now tallying up to astronomical proportions.  I was trying to keep my bitchfacesideeye to a minimum. And then whorepitviper said the words that she will regret for the rest of her life: "It seems as though your transfer went to an account in Indiana, so, there is nothing we can do about it." The following shall be forever known as the incident:

Me:  "Excuse me.  What did you just say?"

WPV: "Your transfer went through on Monday to the account you specified to Cletus the Slackjawed Yokel in Indiana." (Mistake 2)

Me: "Who in the flyingF is Cletus the Slackjawed Yokel and why would I be sending him money through transfers."

WPV: "Well, Mrs. P, why would I know why you would transfer him money."

Me: "Mrs. P, lives in Kentucky and you are going to pray to everythinggoodandbritney that you were dealing with her because she is a sweet Catholic woman.  I am neither sweet nor in Kentucky.  You dumbwhorepitviper.  I don't know who that person is and sure as all hell did not intend for them to have my hard earned money.  So push control alt delete or whatever you need to do to reverse that."

WPV: "I can't.  I don't have that authority and you could be committing fraud."

Me (my neck has fully spun around like the exorcist at this point): "You F'ing moron.  If you can't do it, then get me someone who will.  You are too stupid for me to be dealing with, anyways.  You may as well have  worn your ass as a hat to work because you are about that useless. GET ME YOUR MANAGER!!!!!!!!!"

WPV:  "Did I mention to you that any time your account goes below $7,000 we charge you $150?"  (Mistake 3)

Me: "WTF, DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME.  I AM NOT COMPREHENDING."

WPV: "Every time your account goes below $7,000 we charge you $150."

Me to the entire bank.  I am now standing up: "Excuse me, but how many of you have $7,000 in their personal checking account?" No one answers.  "Good, I would like you all to know that Whore Pit Viper, over here, is charging you $150 every time it goes below $7,000."  "WPV, you are clearly not a bright person, and I am clearly redhotpissed at you right now.  What is going to happen in the next 30 seconds is that you are going to reverse all of those charges, and get my money out of Cletus' account and note it to my account."

WPV: "I can't do that."

Me: "Why?  Did you suddenly get struck with paralysis in your fingers?  DO IT THIS SECOND!" 

WPV: "I don't have the authority."

Me: "Well, get me someone who does."

WPV: "I am the assistant manager."

Me: "What does this useless information have to do with me? Get whomever on the phone that will fix this."

WPV: "Ma'am, can you lower your voice?  You are scaring and offending the other customers."

Me:  "You are absolutely right.  Everyone should be frightened to the point of peeing their pants, that a functioning idiot, as yourself, is in charge of their money. "(Here is where things take a left turn down the craycray railroad) "Get your regional manager on the phone right this second or I will go down to Market Street and get those hippies over at Occupy SF to come down here and wreck the joint.  I punctuated this statement by spitting on the floor of the Smells Wargo.  ***It should be noted that I have no idea what Occupy does.  I just assumed that it's the one thing a bank branch doesn't want going down.  The Mister informed me that they would just come and pitch tents in the lobby.  I thought for sure there would be some outrageous acts...Apparently I am wrong because all that would have happened is they would have put their hippie stink all over everything...which is no different from the rest of SF."

The next thing I knew I was being taken to a back room by the safe deposit boxes to carry on one of the most mind numbing conversations of my life with the regional manager, AKA: The World's Tallest Midget.  

So, there you have it.  I lost it today.  I don't have all my money back yet, but come hell or high water, I will.  I am also going to a credit union.  I don't feel better about this situation.  But I figured at least one of you will use this story to laugh, and probably more than one of you will use this against me and blackmail me with it. Just so you know, verbally thrashing someone cannot be held against me in a court of law.  I threatened no violence...just hippy stink.

Wooooooooosaw.

Angie