When you can't live without bananas

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Thursday, March 14, 2002

It seems that blogger has issues with my account.

*Yesterday's* post didn't get through as well, so from now on I'm going to backdate all my posts by a day. It's rather sian, but I haven't got a choice, and it does give me some time to polish them up for readability. In any case, today I was oddly deprived of inspiration- in fact I could sum it up by saying that the dreaded sianness has begun to descend. I actually found myself, today, while drivng to work, thinking that I could get *used* to this job - when a week ago every moment of commuting was spent stewing in a maelstrom of self-contained convection anger. It's congealed into this deadening, numbing, ambition-killing stoicness which highlights more than ever my need to change careers. In any event - on with yesterday's entry.

Yesterday's (Ed: which actually turned out late by a day due to certain technical errors last night, and some creative re-editing, as was this one) entry actually proved to be remarkably entertaining, as well as a good way to blow off steam after work. In fact, I was so inspired that today, I went around scribbling points that I intended to include in today's diatribe. However, the cuneiform patterns on the dog-eared scrap of paper I had used for this task has proved rather tricky to decipher. This is, at best, what I can read:

Topics

Tan Ah Kow competition
the guerilla of finance(catharsis)
importance of literacy(murals, signing, ATMs) ----> joy of writing
danger of CTOS(!!!)
Islamic banking -> ethical considerations
quoted Dune egregiously - water-rationing
solicited sycophancy VOC

Alright, so that's a little vague. Permit me to clarify.

Firstly, the Tan Ah Kow competition refers to a perverse idea that occurred to me while indulging my morbid curiosity. It turns out that there are no less than 52 separate Tan Ah Kows - all different people!- holding accounts with my bank. Who let the Kows out?? (okay. BAD BAD JOKE). It may say something that 46 of these appear to be born before 1955. But seriously, who knows what other @#$^ed up names might reside within the database? Should anyone be so inclined, leave a few potential candidates in the comments section, and I'll see how many I can dig up from the database. If this was a radio show, there might be prizes, but it ain't, so there ain't, save the potential for entertainment. Which may be the biggest prize of all.:)

Secondly, perhaps my natural adaptive instinct is kicking in, but today, instead of the usual waves of crippling despair, I felt this odd, god-like sense of omnipotence as I basked in the glow of being an integral cog within the economic life of society. Granted, the removal of this one cog doesn't do the machine much damage, but I was struck by the sheer.. *dependency* some of these people I deal with have on me, and the institution I represent. A person applying for a home loan could have his dream home turn to ashes if I raise doubts about his income consistency. The old geezers who depend on me to help them read their passbooks and write cheque deposit slips for them are placing their economic convenience squarely at the mercy of my perverse whims. Of course there's only so much damage I can do before I get fired and/or prosecuted - but I can do a *hell* lot of damage. And if I want to be stealthy.. security in the bank is rather lax(except when dealing with cash, obviously). Simply "misplacing" some of the credit cards, cheque books or ATM cards we issue everyday could deal untold trauma to the people who need them *immediately*. Believe me, I've seen enough pissed-off customers whose accounts didn't balance or had unexected charges come up, only to have that rage multiply when faced against the quality of customer service I provide. Or, if I *really* want to be evil - I could just go into some of those accounts and modify their addresses:) A lot of people wouldn't get bank statements, notifications of late charges, etc... and imagine all these bloody furious people going around and taking out their rage on all the people around them. As Crowley from Good Omens puts it: "The knock-on effects were incalculable. Thousands of souls all got a faint patina of tarnish and you hardly had to lift a finger." I could be the guerilla of consumer finance, dealing damage to a public as vengeance for my pain. hur hur hur. *snorts like a pig*

Thirdly, it's so bloody important to be literate. I have people who can't read(no kidding) insisting on an ATM card, and then, when faced with the bold new concept of PIN numbers, they put on the same face I do when anyone tries to talk to me about sports or shopping. Not to mention their anguish when asked to sign their names - I had to deal with this Bangladeshi who inscribed his name into the form with the steady precision and meticulousness that it took Michaelangelo to carve the Pieta. And, much like the Pieta, the symbols that emerged are meant to be a representation rather than an actual use of language. So we be glad we can all reed n rite end speelll rill gud n stuf.

Fourthly, boys and girls, NEVER EVER get on any of those international or national databases of bankruptcy or court records. EVERY little transgression in your life these days is certain to be filed and documented somewhere, somewhere where it *will* bite your ass someday when you least expect it. I've seen grown men's faces crumble when we dig up a past bankruptcy hearing from the CTOS database(which maintains a local listings of all bankruptcies and financially-related court orders) and have to turn down permission for a credit card or an ATM. Imagine what *other* databases are being kept on your littering, unwanted pregnancies, and taxi driver conversations.

I'm a hell of a lot more tired than I thought I was, and in hindsight, the other topics I've earmarked don't really seem *that* fascinating after all. So I think I'll wrap it for tonight, and go to sleep basking in the warm glow of mediocre, Pepysian glory and the satisfaction of a day well-bitched.
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