BANK­ING ON BIS­CUITS

ONLY THINGS CER­TAIN IN LIFE ARE DEATH, TAXES AND ICED VOVOS – NOT TO MEN­TION BANKS AND SLY AC­COUNT DIP­PING

Life & Style Weekend - - MAGAZINE | STUFF - ONALIGHTER­NOTE WORDS:GREGBRAY ....................... Find Greg Bray at greg­bray­writer.word­press.com or Face­book: Greg Bray – Writer

Folks, many years ago a nice man from the bank vis­ited our class­room and gave each of us a piggy bank and told us to put some­thing away each week for a rainy day.

This was a bit con­fus­ing be­cause the only thing I wanted to save for later were Iced Vovo bis­cuits and the hole in the top of my money box was way too small for me to stuff them in.

Ac­tu­ally, I’m still con­fused. Why were they called Iced Vovos? They’re not made of ice and I’ve never seen a Vovo in the wild.

I’m also baf­fled as to why our bank­ing in­dus­try de­cided to try piracy to im­prove their bot­tom lines?

It was 1993 when I took my first fis­cal hit up the shorts from the peo­ple I’d en­trusted to stock­pile my loot. Fun­nily enough, the mug­gers were the same mob who gave me my first money box.

You see, I’d opened an ac­count for our el­dest daugh­ter the day she was born and each week a few dol­lars was elec­tron­i­cally whisked from my pay into her lit­tle ac­count. A year later I checked the amount and was stunned to find bank fees had chewed up nearly ev­ery cent of her lit­tle bal­ance.

The teller ex­plained it was the bank’s pol­icy to charge fees on ac­counts un­der a thou­sand dol­lars and how it was my fault for not check­ing the bal­ance more of­ten.

I calmly asked her to close all my ac­counts be­fore they found an­other way to bilk me. At this point the man­ager ar­rived and made all sorts of apolo­getic noises but banks, like churches, are built on faith and trust; two things they can’t af­ford to fid­dle with.

Open­ing my wal­let, I tossed him my last five dol­lar note.

“Things must be crook if you have to rob ba­bies for your share­hold­ers,” I said.

They handed over my stash and I never went back. Come to think of it, I can’t re­call get­ting my five dol­lars back either?

So to­day there’s only one in­sti­tu­tion left I can still count on: Iced Vovo bis­cuits.

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