Helping The EconomyMay 19, 2009 at 8:53 PM | Posted in Journal | 1 Comment
Well, there are a couple of reasons:
a) we are a small, local bank
2) the local economy, I maintain, is actually not too bad
d) alot of what we are doing is refi’s, because rates are low
We’ve been so busy, in fact, that we’ve been hiring people, and most are working overtime. We’ve been so busy, in fact, that for the month of April they gave all of us grunts VISA gift cards as a bonus. Visa–it’s everywhere you want to be. Or some such crap like that. But anyway, getting an extra two hundred bones is pretty cool. Two hundred! It’s like Christmas in April!
I thought long and hard (and throbbing) about what to spend it on, and finally decided that although there were things I *wanted*, I needed some new clothes. I did also use the card to get flowers for Detroit and her mom on Mother’s Day. I figured I had about 150 bones clams left. Sunday, we went to the movies, and then went to Wally-World.
Walmart is alot like having a threesome with two hot, slutty chicks that have herpes. Generally you get what you want and have a good experience, although it always seems crowded. Especially in the case of a super-duper Walmart, there is alot of choice and variety–you can get pretty much anything you want. But still–once in a while you are going to have an experience that sours it for life for you, and you are going to end up with cold sores.
This time, the lesions were in remission; it was a fairly benign visit. I made Detroit come along because what threesome is complete without someone to run the camera? Actually, I tricked her into going. We went to the movie (we saw the new Star Trek flick) and when we left, she thought we were going home, but instead I knocked her out with chloroform, stuffed her in the trunk, and drove across the county line to Walmart. Plus, the tags on the car were still hot. The difference between misdemeanors and felonies is largely a state of mind. I felt like Steve McQueen…
I’m sure this is what it felt like to her, anyway. "Uhn! Do I *hafta* go?"
Because I said so. And that’s final.
She stomps her feet, then does that semi-body buckle and shoulder thing, and then pouts.
From arrival to departure our time in the store was about 45 minutes. Longer than I wanted to be there, but quicker than any shopping trip for a single woman’s accessory like a purse that has to be replaced every 37 days. That included finding the shit, throwing some shit in the basket, and trying on the shit–showing Detroit how it looked to make sure the shirts were long enough. I bought two pair o’ khakis for work, another pair of denim shorts (I have one pair left after the favorite son ruined my other pair for me), and some shirts. I effectively doubled my usable wardrobe, and yet I bet all of my clothes will fit in three drawers and 9 inches of closet space.
Now I need to get a box and go through the closet and my drawers and get rid of all the stuff I don’t wear anymore. Then I’m either going to burn them or take them to Good Will. Or maybe take them to Goodwill and leave them behind the building, and set the box on fire. I like to keep my options open.
Although–maybe I need to keep all my old clothes. Not because I have hopes of wearing them again; the combination of fashion and size have caused that ship to set sail and sink right before my eyes. No, if I keep all of my clothes, I can preemptively hang on to closet space, and fight against the encroachment of Detroit’s wardrobe. ‘Tis a noble fight, a noble cause.