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It is truly unfortunate that the cologne-infested business districts of cities around the world are infested with a ridiculous abundance of well-dressed bankers and equity consultants of both sexes entering and exiting their places of employment, all making use of their expertise in culling the last remnants of economic sustenance from common rabble to create rather dubious investment instruments between their frequent visits to eating establishments which favour California presentation.
Having pondered on this problem since I was forced to open a bank account with the meagre proceeds of my corn syrup coin bank by a misguided though well-meaning matriarch, I have subsequently seen bank and credit card charges decimate the potential nest eggs of many friends and watched mutual fund accounts swallow embarrassing amounts of equity while the attending investment specialists talk about the long view, shrug indifferently, and then smile unobtrusively into the armpits of their tailored suit jackets.
This is why I’d like to offer the following solution to this lingering plague of financial advisors, and I do so in the hopes that future generations will no longer have to endure watching any more of their afternoon fashion parades through restaurant districts while their clients’ account portfolios dwindle.
I have been assured by a rather paranoid acquaintance that sturdy margarine containers can suitably protect impressive amounts of currency, even when buried in strategic places around the back yard and left to the mercy of the elements for a number of years. Except for the possibility of these caches being discovered and spirited away by unsavoury characters (who are usually not in the habit of overdressing themselves with your carrying charges), the likelihood is that the same amounts of money you’ve squirreled away will still be there whenever you might decide to dig them up.
While this would effectively negate the need to travel to banks, we should consider that in order to prevent the demise of these institutions and their awe-inspiring edifices, we should provide a minimal amount of patronage and support. This can be easily accomplished by outfitting their spacious offices with stylish vending machines which would dispense handsome, frame-worthy certificates in exchange for paltry sums. While these certificates would have no redemption value, they would indicate our carefully measured support for these long-revered organizations.
Meanwhile, the need for bankers and currency manipulators would understandably diminish. This would allow them to take up more honest and honourable pursuits, possibly as alcohol imbibement consultants or fast food delivery specialists at more reputable establishments. It may take some time for them to adjust to polyester attire as opposed to the more luxuriant caresses of raw cotton and silk ensembles, but after a suitable orientation period, the true resiliency of their characters would be sure to emerge and they would eventually find a way of determining their status based on the relative girth of their bag lunches.
I offer this as an alternative to a full-scale revolution, which, while exciting, would pose a major threat to the remaining assets that common people have been able to snatch from the jaws of bankruptcy, as well as foster the possibility of potential disruptions to the operating hours of any number of popular neighbourhood pubs.
I would hasten to add that because of my previous unwavering faith in the eventual repair and renewal of the banking system, I am no longer in a position to benefit from this bold initiative, though it may save my progeny from suffering a similar fate, and this may allow me the opportunity of squatting in an underused broom closet or garden shed at some future date.
