I justed added a voting poll to the Nametag Challenge so get your votes in! It's still not too late to submit your own nametag!

I Write Because:

Pittsburgh South Writers Group Website

I'll call him Old Man River. And though I've never seen him before, I knew he was pissed mumbling up some sort of profanity irked before a word came out of his mouth.

Hol: "Hi! How are ya?!" (close to closing time, I become happy again, as my soul gradually returns to my body between 4:30 and 5:00)
OMR: "DEPOSIT THIS."

OF course his check was dated for the following day. In the bank world, this is a nonoshakingfinger and while I might have tried to deposit a post-dated check in the past, the Corporate Bank has now decided to reject all favors. Not only would the bank return his check, they would charge him $10, then charge me with a PNF (Policy Not Followed, RED ALERT RED ALERT and DID YOU ORDER A CODE RED ON THAT DEPOSIT) for the full amount of the check and being that I'm on double-secret probation (because I only do the work of three... "Next time, we'd like to see you push for four") I have to follow all rules because I'll be damned if I don't leave that bank on my own.

OMR: (after an explanation, he throws two debit cards on the counter, one belongs to a bank that is no longer in existence and his voice takes on a DEMANDING TONE) "I want you to tell me where I can find a bank that runs itself like THIS ONE" (now shaking the non-existent bank's debit card in my face and for some reason Billy the friggin Bass comes back to me and all I can think is Take me to the River... (wiggle butt)... Drop me in the Water).

While I'm stuck in Billy the Bass world, now enters Management, in an attempt to make OMR happy, which will never ever happen, and at this point in my life, I'm beginning to think that wasting my breath is bad luck and I had Billy the Bass stuck in my head, so what could I do anyway?

So OMR leaves our world just as he entered it: pissed, thus, creating his own destiny and leaving me with the song that took me ten years to forget.

Damn you, Billy. Damn you straight to Hell...

Ahhh! The only perk of working in a bank... Federal Holidays :)

In typical Holly mode, I started a million tasks and completed two: I'm nearly finished with an intro video for the PSWG. I did carry laundry up the stairs. And I wrote like mad, cherishing every single second of Paid Time Off and Thank You Corporate Bank for observing Veteran's Day.

I'm in head-first creative mode and if you still haven't submitted a Nametag for the Challenge, I'm pissed. Creatively pissed (it's the worst of its kind).

The hubby and I have also plunged into revisiting EVERY SINGLE episode of Lost. He doesn't know it, but the only reason I want to watch them all is to kick the asses of every student enrolled in Lost University. It's like a nerd competition, and I'm training hard. I'm also hating Kate (seriously) and I've lost my love for Locke (the second time around each episode makes more sense... of course, we haven't reached the season where the Island MOVES and the episodes juggle between eras... I may need some sort of hallucinogen for understanding that).

1) I will believe in the luck of ladybugs.*
2) I will look forward to Wednesday, as one of the only real benefit of working in a bank is random federal holidays.
3) I will force a smile at bitching unhappy customers and try to make them believe I just farted I am too smart for this place in the power of positive thinking.

*We have two ladybugs in our house. Saul and his wife, Mellow, set up shop Friday afternoon and have remained pretty lame, just hanging out on the ceiling in the living room. Clemenza is obsessed with the pretty little creatures. She just stares at them. For Christmas, she asked for her own ladybugs. Do petshops sell ladybugs? The ladybug couple recently lost their home and children to fire, and while Mellow believed that her youngest, little Ann, had crept under the frying pan and was alive and well, Saul discovered otherwise and then the two continued to argue about the event in my living room.
Saul: "I told you she wasn't under the frying pan, Mellow. Can't you ever believe me?"