doing errands in the Capital City. Longing for the heyday of banking. These days it is as if a neutron bomb had been detonated, leaving the physical structures of the banks untouched but all the personnel gone. There is the bank, the money, the cubicles, but the staff has been reduced to Frosty and he is famously immobile. So the several of us waiting hatched a plan.
We unplugged Frosty.

The response was gratifying. The branch manager instantly appeared, spoke to us all. Checked on our health and that of Frosty. We laughed. We waited. The service was as expeditious as possible. We did business, left longing for the goodle days, before bank officers were replaced with inflatables, before quantitative easing, before securitization of mortgages, back back back to the days of silver coins, copper pennies, silver certificates and savings account passbooks.

(should any of you banking center types be lurking… while your boards of directors and CEO’s plundered the American economy, while we do not like you… you have great employees. Truly. Nice people to do bidness with. Hire more of them!)

Author: WmX

I stumbled off the track to success in 1968, started chasing shadows that summer. Since then, In addition to farm-laborer and newspaper photographer my occupational incarnations include dishwasher, janitor, retail photo clerk, plumber, HVAC repairman, auto mechanic, CAT scan technologist, computer worker and politico (whatever it takes to buy a camera.) I am on the road to understanding black and white photography.

1 thought on “Frosty”

  1. To strike a blow against Christmas is to strike a blow for Christmas. To the barricades!

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