Hey, You!

You insensitive, thoughtless bastard of a bank manager. Don't you have any idea what's wrong with America? We've outsourced all our jobs and now depend on cheap foreign labor. Meanwhile, our national debt piles up as we buy, buy, buy, and the rest of the world is more than happy to accept our money. But it'll bite us in the ass in the end. When I deposited my $300 check into my account in your bank, you saw that it increased my balance to a fat, healthy $300. Still, you offered me a credit card with a $3,000 limit. After four months with your bank, I can only manage three Benjamins, yet you gladly give me license to spend 10 times that? Ten times what it takes me a quarter of a year to save? Well, to fuck with you! Which is what I should have said instead of "I'm just responsible enough to know I can't have that." At least the sexy-ass manager with you couldn't help but blurt out, "That's the best turn down I've ever heard." I hope you die in debtor's prison, with your heirs hounded by creditors like dogs on your fellow inmates.

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at letters@ocweekly.com.


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