The Ruins of Our Lives Chapter 9
A/N: I just want to comment on something from last chapter. I know that now it's Regis and Kelly, but this story takes place back in 1998, when he was still with Kathie Lee Gifford. (And yes, I know this because I actually used to watch it).
-Yours truly, Randy Taylor
Randy's POV
I wake up once through the night, around a quarter after 4. I soon fell back to sleep, and didn't wake up until 9:00.
Now it's around 10:30, and I'm sitting in a small diner near the motel where I'm staying, sipping coffee and waiting for my bowl of oatmeal to arrive.
I have a busy day ahead of me. I need to withdraw my money from the bank where it is and close that account so mom can't get it. I'm then going to open an account with a local bank, or at least a bank that doesn't have any branches in Detroit, and deposit my money there. Then of course I have to try to find a job some place. Plus I have to go to a Wal-Mart or something similar to get a toothbrush, toothpaste, and all of those types of things.
'Here's your oatmeal sir' smiles the young waitress who calls me sir, even though she's probably only 2 or 3 years older than I am.
I begin searching the tabletop for something to kick the oatmeal up a notch. Aha! Blueberry pancake syrup is perfect for adding flavor to bland oatmeal. I garner stares as I pour a third of the bottle of syrup into my bowl of oatmeal. I look up to confront the onlookers, but they return to minding their business as soon as I do.
Ignoring all stares and whispers and comments, I sit there and eat the cereal as if it was the last edible thing on Earth. I drink two more cups of coffee before paying the bill and leaving.
Once outside, I walk over to the spot where I thought I parked the Mustang. But, upon my arrival, I find a Charger instead. I begin to panic, then think to check on the other side of the building. Luckily, I just forgot where I parked.
I get in the Mustang, then drive back to the motel to search the yellow pages for a bank. I know that might not be the best method to use, but I have no knowledge of the Southern California banking world.
A Couple of Hours Later
Surely one of these banks I've found isn't a money hungry, screw over everybody who associates with them type bank.
You know, I just thought of something. If I'm going to get a decent job out here, I'll need to have references. But who could be a reference? Wilson is an obvious choice. I don't know who else could be though.
I decide to call Wilson, and ask him to lie for me so I can get a job. (Maybe that isn't the most ethical thing to do, but who ever said LA was 100 percent ethical?)
'Heidi ho unidentified user of the typically tacky toned, tongue twisting telephone' Wilson greets as usual.
'Hey Wilson, it's Randy' I respond.
'Well Randy. How are you?' asks Wilson impatiently.
'Oh, I'm managing. I was just calling to ask a major favor. I'm going to need a job obviously, and to get a decent one I'll need references. As of right now, you're the only one I can think of. I just wanted to make sure it was okay before I put you down for anything' I explain the situation.
'Of course you can use me as a reference Randy' Wilson replies.
'Now, chances are I'll need you to lie about my age though. No one will want to hire a 16 year old for a worthwhile position' I caution him.
'If I thought it would help you, I'd shoot myself in the foot' chuckles Wilson. I laugh at that as well.
'Well, I don't have a need for a bloody foot yet, but I'll let you know if I ever do' I smile.
'Alright. Randy, I'm so sorry I have to go now, but take care of your self, alright?' Wilson says.
'I will. I'll talk to you later Wilson' I say before hanging up the receiver.
For the second time today I grab the car keys and head out the door.
On the way to the car, I glance down at my arms. I look like I've been in a tanning bed for the past three days. Geez, I didn't realize that I'd been out and about that much. I guess living in Los Angeles does that to you. (Of course, I tan real easily anyways. My skin can be two shades darker than it was after spending only a few hours outside on a sunny day).
I enjoy pulling out of the motel parking lot while I can, since I move this Saturday. (And today's Thursday).
The first place I go is the bank that currently holds my money.
'Hello, how may I help you?' asks the bank teller.
'I have an account with this bank, and I would like to close it' I say, maybe with too much of a smile.
'Okay, what's the account number?' she asks.
I spout off my account number, and all of the other necessary information.
'Okay, now we're going to have to send you over to a personal banker to actually close the account' beams the teller.
'Okay' I say, as I head over to a different side of the bank.
'That woman right over there' says the teller pointing 'can help you after she finishes with the person she's helping right now'.
After a few minutes the man stands up, and I walk over to the woman's desk.
'Hello' the woman greets with a smile. I read her nametag. Her name is Natalie.
'Hi' I say back.
'So, what can I do for you today sir?' Natalie asks.
'I would like to close my account' I reply.
'Just because my mother knows some information about it, and I don't want her doing anything with my money' I add when Natalie gets an offended look on her face.
'Oh, okay. You'll just have to fill out some information, then go back to the teller over there and she'll give you your money' explains Natalie.
She hands me a clipboard containing about maybe half a dozen papers, although I only need to fill out the equivalent of three.
Once everything is complete, I hand the clipboard back to Natalie.
'Okay, now like I said before, you just go back over to one of the tellers and you can withdraw your money' Natalie instructs.
So I walk back over to the station where I was before. I wait my turn in line behind four other people (and this is the shortest line!), and eventually get up to the front of the line.
'Did you get everything taken care of?' asks the teller, recognizing me.
'Yes. I just need to withdraw the money now' I respond.
'Okay. Let me pull up your account information here. You'll have to excuse me, I need to get our branch manager to sign off on this transaction, since such a large amount is involved' explains the teller, whose name is Abby. (I can tell from her nametag).
'What is it?' asks the woman who I assume is the branch manager as she approaches the station where Abby is working at.
'This young man has closed his account and needs to withdraw the money, but it's such a large transaction that you have to sign off on it Patty' responds Abby.
'Well can't Blaine or Shaun do it?' snaps the woman named Patty.
'No, it has to be the branch manager, you should know that since you've been one for 20 years' replies Abby, trying not to lose her temper.
Patty signs a slip of paper with huge gusto, and sighs heavily once she's finished.
'Okay Mr. Taylor. You have 2,340 in your account. How would you like that? In 10s, 20s, 50s?' inquires Abby.
'It doesn't matter. Whatever is most convenient for you' I respond.
She counts out the money and puts in an envelope. After that, I leave the bank, get in the car, and start looking for the new bank I've found. The name of it is First Bank. (I especially like their motto: "Bank First, Be First").
After driving for around 15 minutes, I find the bank I'm looking for. Unfortunately, there's no place to park in the parking lot. I briefly consider parking in the street, then think better of it. I pull over to an out of business gas station three buildings over, and then hike to the bank with all of my money in tow.
A/N: I'll continue this next chapter. I'm trying to extend this story, otherwise it will probably only go 14 or 15 chapters.
As always, please R&R. Reviews are not only fun to read, but they help improve my writing skills. (And I'll be the first to admit I'm no Stephen King or John Grisham).
Sorry if any bank information is wrong, but I don't work for a bank. (Actually, I don't work at all)!
Oh, and try the thing with the oatmeal and blueberry syrup. It's really, really good.
-Yours truly, Randy Taylor