Fellini goes to the bank

This morning, I had to get blood drawn for my annual checking-in-on-myself and since part of that is a cholesterol test, I couldn't have anything to eat or drink beforehand. So I left the house pretty early for me and went to a lab where they take my insurance, did the whole thing, this isn't the interesting part of the story. It's just to explain why I was wandering around downtown Brooklyn, uncaffeinated and unbreakfasted, in a vulnerable and easily confused state after having my blood harvested before 9 a.m.

I went into an unfamiliar branch of my bank afterward, but there weren't any tellers in their little cage. I was clearly looking a little confused because some dude in a suit asked if I needed help. I said I just needed to deposit a check, he said he could help me, and then everything went ... weird. He took me through a rabbit warren of cubicles and sat me down at a desk and we embarked on a completely bizarre conversation I could not hope to replicate, but know this: at one point he drew a diagram for me about how a debit card works. Except that he just wrote $100-$50=$50, which is the part of the whole system that I am pretty clear on. When he had asked if I knew how debit cards work, I said um, maybe because I thought there was going to be a lot more to the answer. It was exactly like someone asking you if you know how electricity works and you said um, maybe because you know that there are currents involved and sometimes hamsters running on wheels but then the person who asked you VERY SERIOUSLY AND NOT UNKINDLY showed you how to plug in a lamp.