The Safety Deposit Box and What Was In It
Part two of Another Goddamn Day In Shit City, because I know you’re dying to find out.
And yea, verily, Moses did lead his people to the bank to open their mom’s safety deposit box, and it took three trips — three trips — to get it done.
We all know how trip number one went — not well.
Trip number two was at 10:00 a.m. this morning. What could possibly go wrong? We had the key, we had I.D., and we had $20 to pay them back for the imaginary second key which never existed.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Okay. Now, just like nobody ever mentioned a fucking key, nobody ever mentioned a fucking appointment. I’ve called these people several times, and last week I just walked in, as I was told I could do, and nobody ever mentioned an appointment.
They are actively trying to get me to give up on the box and that ain’t gonna happen.
“Can you come back around 11:00?”
Sure, I can load up my 93-year-old mother YET AGAIN and bring her back in an hour. I’m going to talk to myself, loudly, the entire time as I walk out of the bank, but sure, we’ll be back.
