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Your pal, Jess
Ladies- I'm a single, straight, virgo/boar INTJ (age 45) who enjoys books, getting out into nature, music, and daily exercise.

(my email is JesseGod@live.com)

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Here's a quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky to start things off right: Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Wells Fargo

I had an unpleasant experience there today

I went in to the bank this morning to exchange coin rolls for cash, and was greeted by a man who asked me how I was doing, which apparently is his job, which I ignored, because I didn't feel like being cheery, to which he asked again, so I lied and said fine or something.   I told the teller, a woman, that this man was a "cheer nazi," because he was making me feel unwelcome for not being happy.  I have the right to be unhappy, goddamit.   Okay?  Alright?  There's a lot of shit to be unhappy about, and actually, this employee is just one more reason.  Seriously, that's his job?  What a stupid job, if you ask me.  Get a real job.  And if I don't feel like engaging with him, he shouldn't get aggressive about it.   After I told the teller I felt unwelcome, he continued (passive-aggressively) with an insincere "have a nice day".   FU, asshole, and  F U wells fargo.  Maybe I'll put my money elsewhere.   You know, they didn't even reply to my suggestion that they put the total (checking plus savings) on their website.   Strike two.  If they really want me to be happy, they'll have some sensitivity that not everyone feels like being cheery with complete strangers, or forced to act cheery, or felt unwelcome after not pretending to be cheery.   Shit happens.  There are zillions of reasons to be unhappy.   Forcing people to pretend to be happy is just another reason, okay?  I shouldn't have to mention Syria, the Phillipines, the Oakland fire, Trump,  pain, sympoms, grief, or what have you.  Stop trying to cheer me up.  I don't even think the greeter enjoyed his job.   I don't need it, I don't like him, and I resent having to deal with this shit every time I enter your goddamn bank. 

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