So today is payday. Good deal. Then it occurs to me, I don't have a bank up here. Yeah - I know what you're thinking. Direct deposit? Debit cards?That doesn't work for Brett Favre.
I'm certainly not going to trust a million dollar deposit traveling across phone lines. I mean, lightning strikes all the time. Drunk drivers. Overzealous snowplow drivers. Phone lines go down.
Can you even imagine the mess that would happen if someone veered off the road, and hit a phone pole just as my deposit was going through? All that cash would spill out all over the road, and there'd be mass hysteria. People slamming on their brakes to get out of their cars to pick up some of my money... Crazy stuff. If even one child got hit by one of those cars, I'd never forgive myself. Never.
I love children. Truthfully - I believe that they're our future. We should teach them well, and let them lead the way. But I digress.
So I walk into Wells Fargo Bank this afternoon, and slap my check on the counter. Sheila (pictured above) looks at the check, and her false teeth drop out. She grabs them off the counter, and asks if I have an account. I do not. She suggests I open one. Initially, I decline. Then I figure - what the hell. She asks me to sit down, and wait for a personal banker.
Stuart comes over, and asks me to come to his office. After some paperwork, a video chat with his kids, and pictures with the bank employees, I've got myself a checking account. Sweet.
They love me so much up here, then even game me an mp3 player. It's super cool. I have no idea how they fit the tape in this thing, or how I get it out - but it's awesome. I guess it holds something like 2 hours of music. Seriously!
Guess who's going to be the envy of the locker room on game day.
Yeah - that's right. #4. As always.
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