The success rate of a man trying to pick-up a pretty Chase bank teller at 5PM on a Monday is likely to have as high a completion probability as snagging the nurse administering your 45-minute, on-demand IV Hangover Therapy drip at your office after your 12-hour bender rendered you a vegetable.
While the former target has the added protection of an armed guard and six inches of bullet-proof glass, for the candy stripper holding the needle capable of removing your hangover pain by shoving you full of vitamins to provide temporary pain relief for the sewer-dwelling alcoholic that’s consuming her caregiving life, there’s zero refuge from the life she’s leading, when instead she could be helping actual sick people, anywhere but here.
While the sexy tag line, “What time do you knock-off?” might have women not trapped in a bullet-proof cubical running for the next exit, in response to your factual query, the gatekeeper of America’s beloved bank is sure to be thinking, not till you add another four zeros to your account balance.
Thinking of other, creative ways to ask the same question while Ms. Chase scrolls through your financial goings about town – heavily populated by dive bar, Duane Reade, liquor store, strip club – is basically giving her the time to find 800 ways not to date you, having long ago realized that a man’s financial history is a better judge of character than his Match.com love of long walks, the great outdoors and fried chicken.
As angry onlookers grow increasingly impatient at our said gent’s flailing attempt to procure a drink after work under the harsh, bright lights of a Chase bank what our Romeo considers a summer singles spritzer, his botched attempts quickly garner a social media presence of its own under the hashtag ‘chasecreeper’, a title every failed bank robber everywhere will tell you is not a desirable nickname to own.
Why any man would not find a more discrete way of wooing the administrator of his $30 withdrawal is as baffling as the concept of inviting a nurse into your place of employment to jab a badge into your arm alerting your boss that you’re a raging alcoholic, while you refresh BuzzFeed in search of that funky quiz about procrastination.
Having failed to entice Ms. Chase to the upscale steak bar around the corner that she knows he most certainly can’t afford, he scurries away, sure to soon find another lady to win over with his wit and charm as he goes about his daily chores, following which a distinguished, 50-something man approaches the Chase teller counter, deposits a $56,000 check and saunters home, greeted by his retired Chase Private Banking associate wife.
