We went to the bank yesterday to sign all the papers to refinance the house. Looks like we’ll be paying less per month and paying the thing off a few years earlier than with the old plan. The thing that kind of bothers me though is that everyone at the bank is about 15 years old. the little girl handling our deal was so nervous and knew so little about everything that I kept thinking that it was all a big scam and they would fold up the building and run to Mexico as soon as we left.
The other weird thing is that at this bank “the tellers have no cash”. Apparently all the dollars are dispensed by machine even if the transaction is handled by a human. Now, a teller having no cash is odd enough, but the thing that even makes one notice this is that the teller’s stations are little bar-height desks sitting out in the big-middle of the room. So a customer could just walk up to a teller’s station and play with the computer, check out the drawers or whatever. Those people are thinking outside the box. They also have a play area for the children. The best thing about this bank, though, is that it’s right next to Jamba Juice!
But anyway as I was signing those hundreds of papers we came to the one where I swear that there are no liens or actions against the property and I read it carefully, making sure that Art hadn’t screwed the deal for me, and I started thinking that my mortgage lender does have some interest in my property, so I asked the girl if I would be allowed to give away part of my property if I wanted to. The girl went, once again, to check with the man behind the curtain and returned with the answer I expected: “Hell no.”
If you haven’t been keeping up with the fence deal, I’ll just sum it up by saying that the city wants me to give them my driveway. So here I’m stymied, once again, in my quest to acquiesce to the local government.