If you want to talk to the most normal people in the world, the place to go to is the bank. There’s no other place that will provide you with more people who look, speak and think like stiffs. If you want positive reinforcement for working and saving, the bank is like a place of worship for that realm of thinking.
It’s in my Chinaman DNA to save…I can’t help it. If I’m working then I’m saving because to me there’s no sense in working if you’re going to be broke. You can spend your earned money on whatever pleasure life has to offer but to me, there’s no pleasure in life that outweighs the misery from having to work. I will trade some misery for pleasure but I will not let pleasure force me into misery.
In certain eras of my life, I appear to be very normal on paper. I’ll have savings and a retirement savings like a fucking average miserable schmuck. The numbers make me normal. Of course, after 10 minutes of talking to me, the office stiff at the bank thinks I’m retarded.
Bank Employee: If you take out your money from your retirement savings, you will get taxed.
Me: Not always
BE: Well no you won’t if you make like no money(disgusted)
Bank Employee: Oh, no wallet?
Me: No, I hate wallets
BE: Why do you hate wallets?(perplexed look)
ME: Because they are too bulky
Bank Employee: You need to have a financial plan for retirement
Me: I have one already
BE: What’s that?
Me: My inheritance
BE: (pause)You can’t depend on that
Me: I think I can. I’m an only child
If she pushed it a little more I would tell her about my Plan B which is to kill myself if things don’t work out.
Why can’t I depend on my inheritance? Saying that I can’t is like telling Prince Harry he should start working some chump job just in case this whole royalty thing doesn’t pan out.