Getting Jerked Around By Wells Fargo Bank.

We had a safe deposit box for a few months.
But we don't need it anymore, so we wanted to close the box.
I visited the bank on Monday, and emptied out the last few trinkets.
I tried to leave the box keys, but nobody would take them.
They said I had to make an appointment, and talk to a bank officer.
So I hurried home to use their online appointment system.
It gave me an appointment for Thursday at 9am.
But the bank officer called and left a voicemail.
It seems the appointment system f*cked up, and she wanted to change the time.
So I tried to return her call: "This number doesn't accept incoming calls."
But her voicemail mentioned another number, which said: "This is a non-working extension."
So I waited by my phone, ready to pounce.
Sure enough, she called again, and we agreed on a new time: Thursday at 10am.
But I had no confidence that she would actually be there.
You see, I've been jerked around by Wells Fargo Bank before.
So when I walked into the bank at 10am on Thursday, I was ready.
I had written CANCEL across the payment slip, in big block letters.
When a teller called me over, and asked why I was there, I told him.
He looked doubtful, and started to say, "I don't think she's here today..."
So I slapped down the payment slip and the keys: "Just give these to her."
And I headed for the door.
The teller yelled, across the lobby: "You can't just leave these here!"
I growled, over my shoulder: "Watch me."