Deposits of Ridiculousness
This morning, I REALLY needed to deposit a check I’d had in my purse for two plus weeks. Running late and worried about making a 9 a.m. meeting, I drove to the Bank of America on Lombard and bolted for the ATM. Enter card, enter pin, enter “deposit.” A screen comes up with three options: cash, check, or…something else, I didn’t see. “Check” was greyed out. I hit it anyway. A screen came up that said
“We’re sorry, this ATM can not accept checks.”
I hope with my whole heart that the ATM camera has a microphone so that it recorded me screaming, “Are you FUCKING kidding me?” at the screen. Since when do banks not accept checks?!
Even if the bank had been open, which it wasn’t (and which I couldn’t go to when it was opened because I’m trying to be a good green citizen by carpooling to work with my husband, which means I’m sans automobile during “banking” hours) they would have charged me $3 just to walk in and talk to a teller. Who knows what depositing a check would cost me these days?
So we got to drive to the Bank of America near my office in Lake Oswego, a good ten-minute-long detour. As I got out of the car, I said to GTB, “If this bank doesn’t accept checks, I’m burning down the building.” Fortunately for the bank, and probably for me too, the old-school ATM on Boones Ferry does still accept pieces of paper. Though I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before I have to somehow telepathically deposit money into it, too.