Wachovia Gets The Bozack

Today Janelle has a full day at the clinic, which means that I have a full day with La Nina. She’s teething pretty hardcore now, which means that the poor li’l gal’s in a foul mood. I don’t care, though. She’s my huckleberry. (By the way, I can’t allow myself to accept that we’re putting her in the care of a complete stranger once school starts up…It just ain’t right.) Anyway, since today’s a full day for La Familia Atomica, enjoy this platter of photographs from the last four or five days of my life in Iowa.

In other news, I need to close my bank account. Because there’s no Wachovia Bank in Iowa. And also because two nights ago I learned that, due mostly to an oversight, dumb luck and some evil/normal banking practices, I had bounced three whole checks. My oversight was about a $50 one, but the fees the bank assessed went ahead and sort of raised that amount…like, considerably. “Man alive. I haven’t done this since college,” I told Janelle, sinking into a bowl of Puffins & feeling like a sucka for flaking out and accruing all the various penalties and whatnot.

I got on the phone and spoke to my bank’s late-night CSR, “Vincent,” who had a thick Southern drawl and zero “customer service skills,” which actually made him seem normal and human/e. “Well, man, they really get’cha with those fees,” he told me, “but, uh, I think I can reduce those for you a little…you know, since you called and all.”

”Thanks, Vincent.”

”Yeah, man.”

The juggernaut known as Wachovia has plagued my ascent from broke grad student to psychotherapist to broke grad student fairly well. Well done, Wachovia. I will miss your riveting monthly statements…