Just Left of Amish: Xurban Farmer Goes to the Bank

Seriously? Gas Station/Bank/Coffee Shop to get a Mortgage

“I can’t go banking looking like this,” said Farmer Jane to herself. She was in grubby work-the-fields sweats and black walnut stained long sleeved tee. She hadn’t bothered combing the dreadlock-like mess on her head. No, she couldn’t go banking looking such a hot mess, after all everyone knows, if you want to ask for money you have to look like money.

She put a quarter cup of conditioner in her hair. She untangled the matted mess on her head. She shaved her legs and scrubbed every inch of herself. She brushed her teeth twice. Jane was trapped in an OCD ritual she believed would make the bank say yes to her refinance request.

Farmer Jane started working her To Do list: Pick the right outfit. Polish the shoes. Rinse the farm mud off the truck. She looked at the clock, 3:30 pm. Dang, no one would pay attention or even try to solve her escrow-mortgage issue at that hour.

"Okay, tomorrow first thing, get up, feed the critters and go." She stated in a commanding tone.

Farmer Jane got up next day, feed the critters and… and…and.. until she donned her pearls and finally got out the door at 1:00 PM.

“Maybe I don’t really want the money? or maybe I’ve heard NO so many times of late that I just can’t handle one more no — you-are-unworthy slap in the face.” Farmer Jane wondered out loud.

She stopped by her credit union first, costumer loyalty and all.

“Go to Community Bank — their rates are better.” Jane is told by the friendly clerk.

”Really? You want me to go to your competition?” Farmer Jane shook her head in disbelief.

Jane gets back into her car and drivers Down Town to the big shiny branch from the era of big shiny bank buildings that evoke power and privilege. She strokes the pearls she had put on whispering

— to get money you have to look like money.

Farmer Jane politely asked to speak with the mortgage officer. The reply was shocking to say the least.

“You have no mortgage officer? Not even a branch manager” — No way! screamed Farmer Jane in her head — she hoped it was in her head and not out loud.

“There is a manager at the Gas station branch,” A voice called out from behind the dripping in privilege and power brass bars over the teller window.

“The what?” asked Jane in complete disbelief.

”Yeah the branch attached to the gas station, you could even get a Tim Horton’s and a doughnut.” The teller seemed very excited about the Tim Horton's.

Farmer Jane left this clearly less than powerful and prestigious building got into the freshly washed car and drove back toward her credit union. Her Credit Union was directly across the street from this Gas station/Bank/Tim Horton's combo building.

Unbelievable — two days primping, grooming, gnashing of teeth, worrying about being judged unworthy…and she is pulling into a gas station/dough nut shop to ask for a loan. Might as well fill up the tank she decides. If all went well she’d take a dozen doughnuts and some coffee back to the teller at the power and privilege branch.

The branch manager was in red and black flannel, black biker boots, sporting several prominent tattoos and silver piercings. No pearls, no silk, no suit. Jane presented her goal. The Manager dismissed her for the most part as a non-serious client.

Out of curiosity Farmer Jane asked a question that intrigued the branch manager, who had never wondered about it herself — she ran the numbers. Yes, if Farmer Jane paid the closing costs vs their “free” closings costs she would save 20K over the course of the loan.

“Thanks for your time I’ll think about it and get back to you.” Farmer Jane exited with a full tank of gas and no Tim Horton’s.

She drove 40 miles north to her old village bank. This village had a small power and privilege bank that had been bought and sold 4 times in the 10 years Farmer Jane had lived in the village. Jane liked that through all the sales, the staff remained the same loyal crew. The loan officer wore a company logo fleece and jeans.

"Is the loan deal still going on …the one we talked about a year ago?” asked Farmer Jane.

“Yep!” replied the bank associate.

Farmer Jane, handed the bank officer the taxes returns, 2 pay stubs, declaration pages and mortgage statements. She walked out of the small village bank, loan in the works. Jane felt happy to be rid of her evil mortgage company that was "to big to fail" — but also a bit foolish in her pearls, silk and suit.

Original published in medium.com edited and revised for vocal.media