Where Fore Art Thou, Mental Health?

Today I woke up not exactly suffering from the worst migraine ever
(they flow down the DNA river on my maternal side right into my gene
pool), but not exactly up to par either. Although it is in disgustingly
bad form to call out of work sick on a Monday (or a Friday), that is
what I did. Whatever, sometimes it’s better to take a "Mental Health
Day" rather than resist your instincts, go to work and give your boss
heart failure by acting like a moron all day.

The day started
out well – I went back to bed for several hours and when I woke up the
fog had lifted from my brain and it seemed I would be able to function.
So I got up, watched a little TV, ate lunch and contemplated what the
next brush strokes on Ingrid’s painting should be. Oh peaceful, restful

And then, I made the mistake of opening the mail.  See Mental Health run.

the mail was a little letter from the bank saying, "Hey Deadbeat! You
suck so give us back all the money you owe us in the next 30 days."
Yikes, we don’t have it. But not to worry, the final paragraph of the
letter stated (and not even in fine print, in regular font!), "If
you’ve recently experienced financial difficulty, call us to discuss
options that might be available." Of course, I immediately suspected
that the available options probably included one or all of the
following: repossession of the house, repossession of our car or the
sacrifice of our first born. Acutally, according to the exceptionally helpful representative who answered my phone call the option being referred to was:

"Umm, yeah … well, what you should do is like, borrow it from a friend or relative or something."

YOU. MUST. BE. KIDDING. ME. This is the advice the bank is giving out nowadays.

When I flipped out on the guy and pressed him further for more information on the options the bank stated in their letter that they could provide, he said, "No, that’s it. What did you expect anyway?"

know what, I didn’t expect the bank to give me a kiss on the forehead
and tell me everything would be alright but I did expect to talk to
someone who knew what the hell they were talking about. Maybe someone
who could take a look at our individual situation and make some
suggestions, point us in the right direction. Not some kid doing a
"customer service" job during his summer vacation giving me a solution
that a five year old could have thought of. Obviously! If I had a
friend or relative with that much pocket change do you really think I’d
be humiliating myself by calling the bank?

Banking was so much
more inconvenient back in the day before internet and phone banking,
but didn’t things seem so much more human? We all had faces then.

What do you think?

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