An open letter to my bank tellers

Open Letters
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photo / Kristin Hillery Creative Commons licensed: Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 

I work downtown, just blocks away from your Congress Avenue location. Since my office doesn’t have a lot or a garage, sometimes I unfortunately have to park on the street. What does this mean? I need quarters for the meter. And where’s the easiest place to get these quarters? My bank.

But giving out rolls of quarters is apparently too much for you people to handle. Gosh, like, I don’t even know if I have any quarters left in my drawer. We’ve given out, like, a thousand quarters this week!

Oh, really? I’m terribly sorry for walking into a bank – where I have two accounts – and asking for my own money like a stupid idiot! And why am I dumb enough to assume that you guys would even have money on hand? I knew I should have just asked the Jamba Juice boys next door.

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