I Am (Was?) A WaMu Girl

Oh, the fond memories of opening a checking account at WaMu after telling BofA (in my own special way) to go fuck themselves.

“There’s a branch right across the street from my building!” I told myself, despite the fact that residents of my neighborhood refer to WaMu as “The Poor People’s Bank” (no joke). I suppose now I am the Poor Bank’s People.

I liked WaMu. As much as someone who has even just a little bit of money can “like” a “bank”.

But like or not, this was really, really weird:

It's not often the internet makes me feel uncomfortable. No, really.

It's not often the internet makes me feel uncomfortable. No, really.

I am reminded of the scene in Wayne’s World where Garth says, while gazing over the recreated, studio-version of his best friend’s basement, “Does anyone else find this weird? I mean, we’re looking down on Wayne’s basement.. only that’s not Wayne’s basement… isn’t that weird?”
“Garth, that was a haiku!!”
“Alright, excellent.”

Exactly like that.

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