It’s got to be a shitty, sinking sensation when you show up at your bank and see nothing but a news crew and a note on the door.
“Don’t touch me. I told you ‘IndyMac’ was a suspicious name for a bank.”
“One at a time, single file, make your way to the desk to have your dreams crushed.”
“I told you we should keep money in underwear, but no, you say “Mom get bank account. Mom, get bank account!” I told you banks thieves. They take all money. Now I wish this country have one child policy!”
“I tell you what, if they don’t have my money, I’m taking every single fucking one of these chairs and shoving them up someone’s ass.”
“People! I need to you go home, fill out these forms, and expect nothing.”
“Okay, how about this: half nickels and half pennies. That’s the best I can do.”"But I have this piece of paper! They have to give me money!"
I would have asked for cash. Something about taking a check from a bank that’s gone out of business seems like a bad idea.
“No, I’m here for my life savings, not a fucking sandwich!”