Fifty Bucks

The lowest building in Lower Manhattan is a Wells Fargo building. Looking to retrieve just a few of my dollars I hold there (the singular purpose of a bank is to gain access to your own money, isn't it?) I entered the building this last Monday to a security desk clerk who explained that this was a corporate office only...not a bank in the traditional sense...and was directed to the nearest ATM which was seven blocks away.

I've come to the realization that I'm fuckering away an awful lot of fees, tariffs, charges and tolls to support a bank that puts up a big goddamn sign outside a building but won't offer commercial services inside, and to support the legalized grifting of several million people by vacuuming up an endless supply of loose nickels floating around in our accounts.

I very rarely need direct access to money remotely. These days I can do it all locally, mostly. I plan on going local, finding a local bank here in Sacramento that, while siphoning off fees, yes, won't be going to support the contract limousines of executives who have long refused to take the subway and 60-foot high marble interiors and bigleaf mahogany paneled elevators in an office building 3,200 miles distant that won't let me in to access a measly fifty bucks.