Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Saturday, November 2, 2019
Privacy matters
When I go up to the bank teller, it’s because I have less than the minimum $20 the ATM will dispense in my account and I need my money. When I get up to the counter, I'll say, "Can I withraw the funds in my account?" The teller then proceeds to tell me my balance (which I already know), announcing the fact that I have eight dollars and 45 cents in my account, loud enough for the whole lineup behind me to hear. HELLO! Could you not announce my net worth to the whole fucking bank please? I know how much I have in there, duh. Then the teller always asks next if I would like the whole amount. What do you think? Of course, duh! I'll take the whole fortune.
—Lower Your Voice
—Lower Your Voice
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