Finding first

I do a bit of traveling for work, and while driving through Montana, a while back, I noticed something odd. In a small town I passed the First Baptist Church. My immediate thought was, “This is highly unlikely.” I don’t know a lot about the Baptists, but I’m reasonably sure they didn’t put their first church in Sioux Creek, Montana.

As driving is boring, I puzzled over this for several minutes. I only really stopped puzzling when I passed another, First Baptist Church. How could this be? Surly this had to the second Baptist church, or maybe even the third. I’m not normally very lucky. Do you realize how extremely unlikely it is, that I should see the first and second churches in one day? Heck, in less than ten minutes. Virtually impossible.

Looking for my destination, I turned a corner and was blown away. Another building clearly denoted itself as the First Babtist Church. Was I driving in circles? Did I just keep running by a single church? No, I considered. The buildings looked different. I shook my head and drove on, trying to make sense of all this.

A second first

Sadly, this was not the end of my dilemma. When I came home, I noticed there are five First Baptist Churches in my home town. Now, I was really confused. I guess that whole ‘Being on Top’ thing is really important to those Baptists. Everyone wants to be first. I bet it makes for some odd conversations. You say you’re going to the first church, and then your friend has to ask which one. “You know the first one.” Huh??

Look, even Mr. Ohh!, who isn’t very scientific, knows there can only be one first. After that it moves to second, third, and so on. I mean what would you all think if I clearly stated at the top of every one of my posts, that it was the first. You’d say I was crazy, and you’d be right, but at least I know how to count.

Attention Baptists everywhere; I understand science and religion don’t always agree, and I further don’t know all your beliefs, but maybe you all should take a class in counting and naming things. I’m just saying.

A third will be mad

I really don’t want to offend people, but what you read and say in important. We call this communication. The people you’re talking to have to understand what’s being said. If they don’t you may as well be speaking Chinese. Well, unless you’re in China where they all speak Chinese. If that’s the case I’d say, “You may as well be speaking Yiddish.” Although there could be a Yiddish speaker visiting China. In that case, this wouldn’t be a problem. Hmmm. Maybe I’m wrong about the Baptists and their numbering system? Naw!!

The absolute worst communicators are bankers. By the way I don’t have a problem offending them. Frankly, they deserve it. Here’s the thing; Every other day, I get calls, snail mail, email, texts and smoke signals from my bank telling me I’m approved for a credit card. Every time without fail I tell them “I don’t want their card”. I don’t even say “No, thank you.” I just rudely hang up, or hit the delete. Wouldn’t you think that after two-hundred-fifty-seven times, of my impolite behavior, they’d get the hint. But, No!! I just keep getting the stuff and I keep deleting. Hey, folks take a communications class!

They worst one is the Equity Loan. Every time, without fail, when I talk to my bank, they tell me I’m approved for an equity loan. I keep telling them I don’t want or need a loan. But they keep telling me that I’m approved for one. Then tragedy struck.

Last month my furnace, air-conditioner, heat pump, weird machine which keeps the house comfortable thingy, broke down. It was going to cost me ten grand to fix. I was going to need their loan. But that’s okay, I was already approved.

Four the want of cash

I went to the bank, and talked to the banker lady to ask for the money. She was very nice and told me the terms. I was informed that what I wanted was bad. To get a decent interest rate I had to borrow a hundred-grand. “But I don’t want that much” I said. She told me not to worry I didn’t have to borrow that much; it was just available credit in case something else happens.

  Now, I’m not big on available credit. In fact, I’m not big on credit at all. However, I agreed to the big amount to get a good rate. Her next question was even worse. She asked what the initial draw would be? I said ten-grand. As a matter of fact, I’d said that several times already. She said, “No.” The initial payout had to be fifty-grand or more. I didn’t need fifty grand! I didn’t want to borrow the freaking ten!

She smiled and informed me that these were the terms. I could just use the ten and put the forty back into the loan. If I’m going to do that, why the heck am I taking it out in the first place? I’ll tell you why, because the bank says I have to. Move along folks, no sensible reason can be seen here.

The thing is, these posts are all about how silly everything is. I understand mindless things, which really is kind of scary. So, I agreed to her stupidity, and made the application. I did this for two reasons; First, I needed the cash. And second, I wanted to get the hell out of there. Either way, what was the problem? I knew I was approved. Maybe!

The next day I received an email. They needed a few documents. Some made sense. Like the ones that verify my income. Most didn’t. I needed to prove I had house insurance. Now you can’t buy a house without insurance, so of course I have it. I sent her the proof, but then they realized I live in a complex, so they needed the complex’s insurance too. Do they honestly believe the complex is going to pay back my loans? I wish.

Next, they needed to know how many homes were bought and sold in the past two years. What the Sam-Hill does that have to do with my ability to pay them back?? It got worse. They needed to know if my complex had a pool. I understand that one. They’re afraid that when the guy comes to appraise my property, I might drown him in it, because I’m angry at the bank.

Fifth of whiskey required

I called the bank lady. I asked what all this was. I was approved already. She said, “Oops, not really.” I was only pre-approved. Which is to say, “Maybe I’ll be approved.” They could say that to anyone. My nephew’s daughter is four-months-old. They would tell her that she’s pre-approved. Maybe she’ll be approved. But PROBABLY NOT!

This is more of a con-game than the Baptist church. Maybe that one in Montana is the first one, but frankly it’s really unlikely.