There is only one thing that keeps us up at night, and it’s not a monster. It’s not sharks in tornadoes or thieves roaming the streets. It’s not even the nightmare scenarios of terrorism and upheaval which greet us with every morning’s paper courtesy of our leaders…
It’s the bank.
George Bailey’s dead and gone. There’s surely some lawyer still settling his estate, but his spirit is gone. The banker you’ll meet today has no interest in your well-being because he doesn’t expect he’ll ever see you again, like a cashier at a big box retailer. He might have a big fancy degree from a big fancy business school, but all he’s doing day to day with all that education is typing numbers into programs which decide your fate, and don’t let him tell you otherwise. We’re barely more than a generation away from punched card computing, but still put our faith in the machines and the people who’ve been trained to do their bidding. It hardly matters your banker doesn’t know the first thing about carpentry, wiring or plumbing — if the machine says you lose your house, you lose your house.
There’s a great song about it all on Chokecherry’s new LP, The Future Was a Long Time Ago, which we posted earlier this week here.
Dick Feller wrote “The Credit Card Song” in 1974 and the only thing irrelevant about it today is the computer.