Banking

I never go to the bank anymore. Anyone who's ever written me a check knows it can take me a long time to deposit it. (Which is rude, I know. I mean to improve.) We've had our paychecks directly deposited since I was working, which is a long time ago. And when we lived in Germany and had to keep paying our bills back in the US, we discovered the joys of automatic bill pay and never looked back.

Of course when I do have a check to deposit, I make use of the ATM. Which is what I was doing last Friday, only to discover that my debit card had expired the week before. Fortunately for me, the strip mall with the closest ATM also happens to house a branch of my bank. It's a humble little branch in an even humbler strip mall whose anchor store is a Grocery Outlet. There's also a McDonald's, a Dollar Store, a DMV licensing office, and a medical clinic. Across the street is a giant feed store and several "restaurants" with no windows. It's not the most cheery part of town, but it certainly serves its purpose.

I pulled away from the drive-through ATM and told the boys we would have to go into the bank. We walked in to a tiny unremarkable institutional space. There were no marble surfaces and nothing gleamed. There were some beige cubicles and a counter, and that was about it.

"I've never been in a bank before," said Willem, looking around with wonder. "It makes me feel like I'm in a movie."

We obviously need to get out more.