The boring and incredible life of a bank security agent

The boring and incredible life of a bank security agent

Abraham Lincoln:
 "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt."
Tuesday (I think)

So here we go again.

Not a goddamn thing to do just sittin’ here lookin’ at people in a hurry to give away their money (plastic sheets).

Can’t wait to get me a new phone, the Nokia n900, it is fuckin’ awesome. I hope I can get a real one soon, not a shitty chinese fake.

Also, I can’t wait to get rid of this fuckin’ job of mine. I need some change in my life. And I also want a new PS Vita, and a new mp3 playa; a new pc would be awesome too. And if the fuckin’ phone would just stop ringin’, that’d be nice too. Bleah, I hate banks.

People, all kinds of people, rich, poor, greedy, retards, tipical humans, quick to give up or take the cash, waitin’ for fuckin’ hours in line.

Others think that the security guy knows everythin’, so they keep askin’ me all kinds of stupid shit. Mailman just came by.

Decent old dude, likes to chat a lot, and this hot but dumb blonde bitch “hey, how you doin’ ?” (Joey Tribbiani).

Oh man, the start of this week was the fuckin’ horror. Just lost my “train” of thought. Finished the ATM  refill. Everybody seems to be stressed out today, people complainin’ about shit… like the bankers. Even though they’re bankers, they’re only human, they can’t work with the speed of light.

What I hate the most is people takin’ my beloved seat. There are a couple of spare chairs and desks for those that need to write or sign documents ‘n’ shit.

So, even if they saw me sittin’ on it earlier, even if there are books or other personal shit lying around on the desk, the first seat they always take is of course mine if it’s empty. And that fuckin’ radio is drivin’ me insane! The same ten songs and remixes of them are bein’ played all day, every day.

This constant brainless noise without a single drop of substance and talent, the autotune computer edited voices – and man! you should see the videos they make for them songs nowadayz… I just wish my mp3 playa was still workin’. And the worst part is that I’m fallin’ for their brainwash, because after listenin’ to them shits for so long, I’m starting to like it, even if only at a party for example.

Bleah, it’s only 1:15 pm. As soon as I enter the bank it’s like the clock stops tickin’. It’s just standin’ still, like that’s its whole purpose. I can’t stop thinkin’ bout that fuckin phone. I can’t wait to get it. I seem to be drawn by Nokia big time. The n900 is just fuckin’ awesome. Most of my phones have been nokia. Including my current fucked up one. As soon as I step out of the bank, my day instantly gets 10x better, I can barely even think in this misery. Can’t wait to get home.

Found a new game called “dark souls”, but it’s so damn hard I barely made it past the tutorial.HA! It’s almost 2pm. 3 hours left. Good thing I came across these sheets of paper. Writing seems to get time on the move. Been wantin’ to write since forever, I was just too lazy and afraid I have nothin’ to  write. I should start rhymin’ but I can’t do it here since the radio is always on. And as soon as I get home I’ll forget bout writin’.

This lady just came in, dressed in a denim dress (jeans anybody?) wearing a HUUUGE smile, she didn’t even stepped inside, first thing she did was say “good day” to me. When she left, still smilin’, she wished everyone a beautiful afternoon and greeted us nicely again. People like her are pretty rare, she really enlightened my mood. Gonna go grab anotha smoke. I’m back the bank manager – she’s a weird one – I can feel she doesn’t like us smokin’ in tha kitchen every 5 minutes, but she has not said anythin’ about it yet. I like to pretend that it’s forbidden, just to spice things up a bit. I like to pretend that I’m “Splinter Cell” or some other kind of super-spy, so when she ain’t lookin’ I’ll be sneakin’ around the bank ’till I get to the kitchen and puff one fast, then get back without her noticin’ my absence. BASU’ SI CU TOBA MARE! Sorry, that just popped into my head.

Last week, the manager was away, so I was standin’ in front of the bank, enjoyin’ a smoke when suddenly, outta nowhere, this old dude appeared, was in a big hurry, and as soon as he saw me, he stopped and asked me if this was a drug store. I was in shock, almost started cryin’, then looked behind me to find evidence that there used to be a fuckin’ druggery, but all I could see was TRANSILVANIA BANK!!! Written all over the goddamn place. In my head I envisioned myself sayin’ with an emotionless, Terminator-ish expression on mah face: “NO, it’s a fuckin’ space station” (Bruce Willis style yippee-ki-yay motherfucker!). Then I pulled out a double sawed-off shotgun and blasted him in tha fuckin’ face. In reality, I said to the old man “no sir, it’s a bank” with a blank poker face.

WOW! You should see the breasts on this blonde chick standin’ in line. And her super short skirt. And them high heels…

Wish she would drop sumthin’ on the ground and bend over. I can’t help but pick my nose. And stare at the clock wich shows 2:45. Horrible!!!

OK, enough for now. My fingers are sore/numb. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. I dunno. See you around piece of paper.

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