Dear Bullrider,
I made a shocking discovery today. I believe I’ve become physically allergic to banks! I was required to enter one of your fine if a little unkempt facilities to deposit a meagre check (enough at least to tide us over until our next direct deposit so I shouldn't complain) when I found myself all of a sudden paralyzed from the knees up. Below the knees seemed hardly affected. I could only presume this is related to the vicinity of my wallet—its placement about my person. As a frequent wearer of baggy cargo pants/shorts this can be anywhere along the length of the thigh depending on where the pocket is attached. I won’t go into brand differences between say Old Navy and whatever one might find in the local charity shop. Because I am left-handed the pocket I usually use is also usually to be found on my left side. My left side definitely became far more rigid than my right. You could say it is all in the mind but I found this compelling back up for my theory.
Needless to say this truly puts the kebosh on further efforts to engage with my BM in person at my local branch—can’t do it anymore! Previous attempts to do so have been so hopeless any way especially given your proclivity for face-lifts. Either you are a master of disguise or a victim of botox treatments run amuck. Your name on that little bronze plaque remains the same but your look changes with every visit? Is it that I don’t have a personal BM anymore? Is this a thing of the past? In numerous letters I have addressed this issue and yet still I cannot come to grips with the awful possibility that you, my BM, are in fact many, many different people.
How about Skypeing in future? This would demand minimal effort on your part (and is cheap!) and I could closely observe your features without having to step into your strange and alien world, a world that, these days, is a proven danger to my health.
Yours sincerely,
Kristian A. Witherkay
PS- I’m not about to appologise for not having written in a while. You NEVER write to me —unless you count those dry missives churned out of your department suggesting I transfer higher rate balances to your oh so briefly lower rate.
