Tiny Little Rashes in a Faraway Place

I filled out the deposit slip at home, while waiting for Stevie's bus. I had the deposit slip, the endorsed check, and my driver's license beside me in the car as I commuted. I pull up to the bank, drive all the way around, and line up behind just one other car. There are two cars in the other line beside me. And I sat, wondering why the two "first" cars were blocking everything, why they were taking so long. The pod comes down the pipeline for the first car in the lane beside me. Surely, it won't be long until the person in the car in front of me gets her own pod back. And then I see it. After another 20-30 seconds (an eternity!) she puts her own slips, checks, ID in the pod. She has been sitting there the whole goddamn time filling out her fucking slip. When are people going to learn, understand, and practice the social grace that is filling out your slip before you pull into the drivethrough bank line so as to not keep innocent others waiting, not make others late for work, not drive others into a hopelessly irritated state? The second car beside me now becomes first. He immediately puts his info in the pod and presses the button that starts the sucking action. Idiot girl in front of me (A college student? She had a college sticker, drove a Jetta, looked young, obviously not in any kind of hurry as she doesn't yet know what it's like to really work, have kids to feed, etc.) gets her crap. I move into first position. Put my ready-made stuff into the pod. There are no tellers in the window. Correction: There are two, but they are obviously not helping the car people. One is drinking something out of a cup (as opposed to a rolled-up $20). Can't she put down her precious, precious coffee and jump into the game? Guy in very large truck beside me, although quick on the uptake, apparently has put through the most complicated transaction the teller(s?) has ever seen, if there is, indeed, a teller. FINALLY a teller appears, stuffs some papers in his pod, and vacuums them back to him. As she's opening my simple, simple transaction (ONE check to deposit--no cash back), he returns his pod and calls to her: "Bwah, wap, wah, dowa wip wap?" She takes her hands off my stuff (!!!), grabs his pod, and walks away! I shoot asstrucker a dirty look, but his truck is so big to make up for his tiny penis that there is no direct line from my car to his teller-hoggin' assface. The teller comes back, shoots him his pod. While doing this, she acknowledges my presence (Hello! I'm a customer. Ever heard of one of those?!) and says, "We can't deposit this check because it's dated for the 6th. Come back after 5." I say, uncharacteristically, (believe it or not) "I've already wasted enough time." and pull away, pretty fast, and half-attempt to squeal out (and now, I must laugh at myself. My high-tech auto won't allow my tires to slide around like that, and I'm not a professional on a closed-course. Silly!) The half-beast in the truck is still there as I drive away. What the fuck is he doing? If you have that much business, go infuckinside. And why the hell can't the bank just hold onto my precious $399.30 check until 5 and then put it in the system? Or withhold the funds until the precious 5 o'clock hour, when fairies dart about in the gold dust of the Chase branch in north Directionville? Gosh!