HN is so cute. So many people here talking about why poor people do things the way they do without having ever really experienced it. Here's why poor people do

HN is so cute. So many people here talking about why poor people do things the way they do without having ever really experienced it. Here's why poor people don't like banks: because banks don't like them. Let me paint you some pictures. You're not clean-shaven. You smell a little bit, whether because you just finished a smelly job or because you're living on the streets or because you're depressed and haven't bothered to clean up in a day. You enter the bank, and no less than four pair of eyes look at you -- eyes that are surrounded by expensive haircuts, ties, and nice dresses or suits. You're exhausted and you can't concentrate well. Maybe it's the chronic lack of sleep, maybe it's malnutrition, maybe it's stress, or maybe it's drugs or alcohol. You walk up to a counter with a check in hand. This paper is worthless to you, what you need is a different kind of paper that you can trade for things you need. The teller asks you if you're a customer. She's polite, but polite in that barely perceptible condescending way that people are when they're uncomfortable with the person they're talking to. You're not a customer. She'll have to charge you for cashing the check then (or maybe won't do it at all -- depending on company policy). Can you be a customer? She directs you over to a desk. The desk has a nice finish on it. It's probably worth more than anything you own. It might even be worth more than everything you own. You sit down at the desk and another person with a polite smile, perfect hair, and a nice tie or suit or dress asks you for some personal information and enters it into the computer. You're poor, so you hate computers. They keep track of you everywhere you go. You can't seem to escape them. The police in different towns all somehow have access to the same information about you. Computers produce paperwork that occasionally makes it into your P.O. Box, or last address, or friend's address, and usually it's bad paperwork: more bad news, more stress, more trouble. Some faceless agency somewhere wants more of what you don't have. This computer is no different. A few keystrokes later, the representative apologizes in that polite-but-condescending way: "I'm sorry, you're here in Chex Systems for account abuse at BigCorp Bank three years ago, we can't open an account for you." This is the sixth bank you've been to. Three years later, after a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work and a struggle that will forever leave a scar on your soul, you've finally reached the five-year expiration period for Chex Systems, you've finally got a regular job with a regular paycheck that is just barely enough to live on. You're set up with free checking at some bank, but you're very very careful not to overdraw your account, ever, because that one time you did it suddenly somehow turned into $250 of money that you owed the bank -- money that you didn't have, because if you did, the bank wouldn't be asking for it. But this morning, your beater car finally crapped out for good and the low-rent apartment complex you live in forbids you from working on it in the parking lot. You can't get to work without the car. You have a little bit of savings, about $100, and you just need to borrow a little bit of money so that you can get another beater and get back to work as soon as possible. Your job doesn't offer paid sick days, so every day you're out of work, you get a little bit poorer. You walk or get a ride down to your bank and you sit down behind that desk, and that computer that you still hate, and you ask the polite-but-still-a-little-condescending nicely-dressed person if you can get a car loan. You quickly add, "I don't need much, only a few hundred dollars, and I'll be able to get this car I saw down the street from my apartment." You make promises and tell the representative how important this is to you, because you're under the mistaken impression that the representative has the ability to make a decision. But it's not up to them, it's up to the computer. The representative politely tells you that they don't do car loans for a few hundred dollars, they only do loans for a couple thousand. You don't need a couple thousand -- in fact, the very idea of borrowing that much is really scary to you, because you're pretty sure that if somebody gave you that much money you'd mess up with it, just like you always do, and then you'd owe a lot of money that you'd have no way of paying back. But the representative tries to get you a couple thousand dollars for a car anyway. The computer says no: you don't have enough credit, your credit is too bad, you don't make enough, you don't have collateral. In short: you are too poor. It doesn't matter that you're a customer. It doesn't matter how hard you're trying. It's just like all your friends say, it's what you hear all the time: banks only lend you money if you don't need it. -- That was me. For years. I'm reasonably intelligent, I've never had a drug or alcohol problem. Still, though, I made a relatively simple decision many years ago, to take a vacation from the computer industry for a while and be a climbing instructor. Unfortunately, while being a climbing instructor was amazing and I'm still glad I did it, it didn't pay very much, and eventually I got into trouble with a bank. The economy started to have trouble then (dot-com bust), my computer skills were more of a liability than an asset, and for the next several years I struggled desperately to keep my head just barely above water. I was homeless for a while. I've got my own business now and my finances are better and I still hate banks. I love the people at my local bank, but I hate banks.