This will be first in a series of posts in which I answer the many forward advances of Chase Bank, who, for the purposes of expedience, will henceforth be referred to as Chaz.
I regularly receive 4-5 pieces of mail from Chaz per week. I have never met with Chaz, nor have I done business with him. I am perfectly content in my current relationship with Bank of America. Plus, from what I've heard, Chaz is kind of a desperate whore. Apparently, he pursues nearly everyone with unsolicited mail, including infants. That's kind of icky. Also, his Seattle bus ads walk a fine line between pathetic and insulting ("More ATMs Than Espresso Carts!"). Really, Chaz? Have you ever actually been to Seattle? If you have, then you would know that espresso carts are pretty much extinct, even here. I bet you would just go to Starbucks, anyway. Dick.
I considered getting on Chaz's ''Do-Not-Mail'' list until I heard that this would involve being on the phone for 20 minutes with someone who is paid to pleasantly offer me things no matter what I say. And to me, that feels like defeat. I already knew that the cold shoulder simply wasn't going to work for this bank, and I did not want to expend any effort to stop these propositions. But then, the lightbulb moment: Chaz, I realized, always includes a return envelope in his mailers. Not only is the postage paid, but neither my name nor my return address is printed on these. Also, there's a cute little "Priority Processing" stamp on it, there to mock the underpaid data processor who has to open the thing.
So, instead of bureaucratically pushing Chaz away, I am going to start answering him as inappropriately as possible. My explicitly erotic love letter was too much this first time around, so I settled for imagery instead. I felt that this photograph of a man exposing himself to a dead cow was rather apt. And adding the "Thank You", I think, was a fine, thought-provoking juxtaposition:
I will continue posting further correspondence with Chaz as this saga develops, so stay tuned!