Rant of the Day: banks and old men

At the advice of my friend Jen, I am going to do my best to blog more regularly, get some traffic on this site and maybe earn a little cake on the side. That's right, I said it -- cake. I'm cool, and don't you forget it.

So, today the rant is two-fold -- I'm a multi-tasking fool. First up: my new credit union. For all its promises of good APR and down-home local flavor, my experience with Locally Owned Credit Union was less than stellar. I am attempting to remain positive, if only because I have to deal with them for the next three to five years; however, if this initial contact with them is indicative of things to come, I'll whore myself out to recently released convicts before I go the next five years taking their grief.

After dealing pretty much exclusively with the same individual all week, I realized at the end of said week -- when I went in to a branch to complete my loan papers -- that I didn't have all the information I needed. I'd been told I needed gap insurance, which was $279 and a thousand dollar deposit. She neglected to mention the more than $500 for tax, title and license. Seems a rather large thing to forget, you'd think, especially during all the talk about how much my monthly payments would be.

So, about 48 hours after I've asked my parents to loan me $1000 and 24 hours before I've going to buy this car, I find out I need an extra $570 or so. Not cool. But, I rebound quickly, figure it out and proceed to pay the gap insurance, open an account (with a $6 min.), sign my loan papers and prance off on my merry way. I am tenatively thinking Saturday will be better; I'll return with the seller and he'll have the title. I'll have the money, we'll do the do and call it a day.

Only when we arrive on Saturday, we have the misfortune to deal with a loan officer who's been working there less than a week; quite literally, the notes in her computer told her to tell bank clients that it was her first week, and they "would understand." Yeah, I did understand for the first 20 minutes or so -- but 90 minutes into what should have been a 15 minutes process, I was a little hot. I had to pay $6 because my account was 'short,' according ot her -- even though it's very obvious I had to have put $6 in there, or I be unable to open the account in the first place! About 30 minutesa fter that, I'm told I owe $95... "we're trying to figure out why."

WTF does that even mean? You know I owe money but don't know why? Un-f'ing-believable. At the very, very least, wouldn't it have made sense for Newbs (who had the long hair and meek look of an escaped FDLS sister wife) to put down her $6 Starbucks iced coffee, get up off her ass and actually ask for help? Instead, she glared at the screen, clicked aimlessly, and every 10 minutes reached for the phone to call The Wizard, some mysteriously hidden, higher-level bank employee who walked her through whatever step she'd missed. Newbs thanked her profusely and called her 'da bomb' more times than I'd like to recall.

In the end, a check was cut, of course -- rather abruptly, I might add. I know I was on the phone with my dad and exploded my frustrations all over him. Perhaps Newbs overheard, peed herself and decided to do what was best? I honestly don't know, but at the end of the day, to call the experience 'frustrating' would be an understatement. At the end of the day, it's like Locally Owned Credit Union is the guy you meet who is fantastic on paper... on the surface he has his shiz together and you really want to date him. But then you go out, his car breaks down, he lives with his mom, he reeks of BO and onions and he reveals some high level baby mama drama. Yet and still, you agree to a second date, then proceed to cross your fingers and hope for the best.

And speaking of lousy guys (wasn't that a fantastic segue?) -- I now bring you to what I'll call the Trials of OKC. The acronym refers to OK Cupid for those not in the know; while I've never been to Oklahoma City, from what I've heard it's probably not the best place to be as single lady. That being said, OK Cupid, at times, isn't much better.

As is the case with most online dating sites, I receive my share of shady, sketchy and notably unnotable messages. OKC is part dating, part social networking, so it's generally not quite as bad, and when I do get such messages, they are as comical (sometimes) as they are offensive. Given that the man who sent it very obviously has no self respect or discernible level of shame, I don't feel the least bit ashamed in posting their messages to me.

On deck today is 'affectionate444,' a 50 year old from Florida. OKC tells guys that one way they might be successful in getting a woman to reply to their opening message is to read their profile carefully and comment on specifics. That lets us know that he's really emailing us, and not just sending out a general blast to half a dozen different users. Mr. Affectionate444 did read my profile, that much is clear; what he chooses to comment on, however, and *how* he chooses to do it is what I take issue with.

if you love a soft pillow, silence ans swirling fan, you must truly be a romantic, in-depth person. But please, please, please............dont do any partia;l sleeve tattoos. What do you do in 5 years if you realize you made a mistake and as a MAN i CAN TELL you I have never seen a woman with a husband(for long0 who has that. Men unconsciously, and society consciously judge people with tatoos very harshly. There is a reason Oprah, obama and the williams sisters are all the best at their game and most loved. Im not trying to lecture you but as an observer of life and people I can tell you tats only hold you back. Period. Discreet ones are another story. Anyway if youd like to chat, Im here. I hope you enjoy my profile. I am too old for you by your standards, but we can be friends if you desire.

marc

Now, let's review:
(a) there is a line in my profile that states: "For all my extrovertedness, however, I sometimes just relish being alone in a quiet room with a soft pillow, warm blanket and swirling fan overhead." I've not included that as some sort of innuendo, I included it because I like to take naps, and if you date me, you should know that. Since when does a soft pillow and ceiling fan=romantic, in-depth person? I'm not even denying that I'm not those things... just wondering how A leads to B. And speaking of B,

(b) Why in hell would you decide it's ok to preach to a complete stranger? I women who, ostensibly, you are interested in romantically? The only reason it seems he brings up the 'friend' option is because he fall out of my desired age range... but you can see there's a little loophole there, in case I change my mind and want to date a man nearly twice my age with a mindset from 1954.

"Hi there, Marc! I'd love to meet you! With all your preachiness and judgment, I think we'd have a wonderful life together!"

The word 'douche' doesn't even begin to describe this guy... but don't think I won't use it.

You, Marc, are a douche. I hope it doesn't hold you back.