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Seeking a loan for gas money
What started out as a casual trip down to the gas station to fill up the old pickup's gas tank turned into a haunting adventure.
I made a proper turn into the gas station lot. Then I looked up at the big sign that advertises the gas prices. The stuff my old pickup likes to drink was $3.42 per gallon. That's the cheap stuff, too.
Darned near swooned.
I'm not too sure if guys can swoon, or are supposed to. I'll leave that up to the heirs of Emily Post. I do know what guys usually do in that situation. If you're a guy, imagine what you would have done when you saw that price. If you're not a guy you'll think swoon is cool.
After I recovered I did some quick math in my head. It was going to cost me darned near ... I had to go to the bank.
An woman who didn't look happy was sitting at the desk that faced the entrance. Her desk was neat. It was not adorned with a vase of flowers or pictures of ugly children. No little figurines of dogs with big, sad eyes. There was nothing cute and homey on that desk. Just a tightly-bound book that I'll come back to later.
I introduced myself.
She did not.
I waited for her to go into the "how can I help you?' spiel.
She just looked at me like I was something nasty that blew in through the window.
I told her I needed to borrow some money to fill my pickup's gas tank.
She did a facial meltdown. Her eyebrows arched, her face turned red, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth all but disappeared. Nostrils flared. Left eye twitched like Humphrey Bogart's in that scene about strawberries.
"Do you have any idea what has happened to the lending market?" she said, voice rasping.
Well, I know it's easier to get a ride on the space shuttle than it is to get a mortgage. I know that when one of you guys goes broke all the other banks and financial institutions chip in so you can make it to your next payday. That's about it.
"A global crisis has struck the lending market," she hissed. "Because of that we are headed into a recession. A bad recession. It's going to be bad, I tell you. Bad bad bad."
I just want to borrow some money to fill up my truck.
"You think you can walk in here and just borrow some money?"
She tapped that tightly-bound book.
"We have new requirements, released just this morning."
I've got a job, if that's what you're worried about.
"Oh, we need much more information than that. We need to know your grandparents' country of origin. We need to know which sock you put on first, the right one or the left one. If you had $5 and apples cost 37 cents each, how many apples could you buy?"
You need all of that just to loan me some gas money?
She nodded.
"We also need the title to your truck, the whereabouts of your first born, and the name of your high school music teacher."
I didn't take music in high school.
"Then I seriously doubt you qualify."
You haven't even asked me how much I need. How can you tell me I don't qualify if you don't ask me that?
"How much do you need?"
I need $100.
She flipped through the tightly-bound book. She rattled away on the computer keyboard. She made a phone call and was put on hold for 49 minutes. She neither spoke nor changed expression. Until she was ready.
"You have steady employment. You appear to be of some reasonable intelligence. You should have planned for an increase in the price of gas. I am afraid I'll have to deny your request."
Just let me out of here.
"Have a nice day."
They always say that but never mean it.
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