Today I had to run to the bank on my lunch hour to take care of some business concerning my auto loan and it is one of those small regional banks without a ton of clients. Is that what banks call the people who keep their money with them? Clients? Or is it customers? Anyway, I work in the suburbs of West Omaha so its a real melting pot of diversity. What I mean is, you have white people who went to college at one of the local universities as well as white people who studied for a couple semesters online at the University of Pheonix but ended up becoming stay at home parents instead. They all love football though and that’s the state religion. I grew up in Michigan, so I can respect that.
I get to the bank and its completely empty minus one 20 something bank teller named Josh who, I could tell just by looking at him, vapes, and the branch manager. What I needed to have taken care of was beyound the $12.50 an hour paygrade of Josh so he had to escalate the situation to his manager. The branch manager is in her early to mid thirties and despite being about 20 lbs overweight she is pretty attractive. So she brings me to her office and I sit down in the chair across from her desk and she starts pulling up my account on her computer. The office is the same, soul sucking corporate 15x15 office at any Midwestern suburb bank office. She has pictures on her desk as well as the polished oak table directly to her left. The pictures are of her family. She has 3 kids under the age of about 7 and an overweight husband with a goatee and buzz cut. You can tell just by looking at his picture that he supports Ted Cruz but will vote for Donald Trump if he gets the nomination. Anyone but Hillary. He is wearing a Nebraska Cornhuskers shirt in his pictures because he is from Nebraska and that is what people from Nebraska wear when they are not wearing work attire. Go Big Red.
The branch manager was wearing professional women’s attire she definitely bought at Kohl’s during a recent 40% Off Everything post holiday sale. She was entirely over made up, especially since this branch probably gets fewer than 15 clients (or customers?) a day and her only coworker — Josh — looks like he drives a late 90s model Honda civic with a spoiler and whose favorite band is Avenged Sevenfold. She was cordial towards me but you can tell she is miserable because she looks miserable. I certainly don’t blame her. Being the manager of a regional bank sounds pretty fucking awful and she definitely spends her tedious, boring days looking forward to getting happy hour drinks with her professional friends at a West Omaha sports bar where they compare their equally mind numbing jobs and talk about how they hope to take a vacation to some tourist trap in Mexico next winter. These suburban yuppies love happy hour and Mexico.
Despite the small talk between us, her mind was a thousand miles away. I looked again over at the picture of her husband whom I assume is named Travis. Travis is probably a white collar professional himself. He is probably an accountant and the branch manager probably met him in college during a microeconomics class. Needless to say, the marginal utility of the sex in their marriage has declined. Travis hasn’t given his branch manager wife an orgasm in 6 years and she hasn’t given him a blow job since she had too much Tequila Rose on New Years Eve 2013. Each night after a long day of crunching numbers at work they sit on opposite ends of their Nebraska Furniture Mart couch staring at their phones, her looking through Groupon deals on pants suits, him playing Draft Kings fantasy sports and liking memes on Facebook. Technology and smart phones have a cathartic effect even if they consume our lives at the expense of real social interaction. After a long day of dealing with accounts payable and accounts recievable Travis could come home stressed and angry like the dad from Wonder Years but instead he can relax and gamble $20 on Jeremy Maclin actually catching a touchdown pass from Alex Smith this week.
Looking back at the branch manager who has just assured me it will “just be a second, the computer is just slow today for some reason”, I can tell in her mind she is fantasizing about cucking Travis with a large, athletic, probably African American man who will just press her head in to a $75 Bed Bath and Beyound Pillow she found on Groupon for $15 and pull her tastefully blonde highlighted hair while he slams in to her from behind like an Atlanta motorist without anti lock brakes on snow covered roads. The entire interaction lasts roughly 10 minutes but I don’t think the branch manager made eye contact with me once but if you were day dreaming about cuckolding your husband while your three children stared at you from the JC Penny family photos on the oak table to your left watched would you be able to look a stranger in the eye?
After my business was complete at the bank, the bank manager walked me to the door and let me out but the bank door was always locked, for safety reasons, and you had to be buzzed in and out. Unfortunately the buzzer wasn’t responding and Josh kept me company while the branch manager figured it out. Josh and I had a conversation about how it was unseasonably warm and how we couldn’t wait for summer. Inevitably the idea that summer heat was great if it wasn’t for the humidity came up. Josh said Arizona is much hotter than Nebraska but its a dry heat. It’s always the humidy that gets you.
I love the Midwest.