Don't own a Nextel Phone

The next stop on my journey into the Bank of Hell required me to spend a week in Dante’s Inferno “training” at “Experienced Loan Officer Academy”. The Mortgage Devil had put it in writing that I had to attend this “training”….yes, it was in my offer letter. Unlike my co-worker Turdy… I wasn’t clever enough at this point in my tenure to find a way out of attending this week of torture.

Three weeks into my “career” at the Bank of Hell I was sent on my way to training. My Op’s Manager was pleased to tell me that another new loan officer from our office was going to Dante’s Inferno the same week as me. She was wondering if we could carpool together? Yipee!! Sound like fun. Fortunately, I had a quick excuse as to why I had to travel alone. I had met the girl once before at the office and didn’t get a warm and fuzzy feeling from her. I will call her “Curly Sue” for a lack of a better name because she had blondish curly hair.

I was expected to check in to the hotel on a Sunday night…so I was stuck with a five hour drive on a Sunday afternoon during football season. That is cruel and unusual punishment in my world. They wanted me to be ready to board the Shuttle Bus that would take me to Dante’s Inferno at 7:30 a.m. Monday morning. The email I received prior to my arrival from the “trainer” wanted us to be “bright-eyed and bushy tailed Monday morning”. If the Bank of Hell wanted me “bright-eyed and bushy tailed” they should have hired a fucking squirrel. What they got was half-asleep and blood shot eyed me…bright and early.

Our Trainer can best be described as one of the Munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. It was fitting because the Mortgage Devil was sorta’ like the Wizard with his magic whiteboard. She was small and cute (she was about 4 and ½ feet tall)…well she was cute until she opened her mouth. She didn’t sing a happy little song about a dead witch and dance. Instead she made it clear that she hated Loan Officers. I couldn’t blame her. Most of the ones in training class were prima donna's (and I am certain most classes were full of them). We were on a schedule so strict that the Nazi’s would have been pleased. The Munchkin had us on “lock down” and they were going to take full advantage of this opportunity to serve up large doses of the Bank of Hell Kool-aid. They paraded in everyone with a title of Sr. Vice President of Something or Other all day…every day. They were all so “pumped” to meet us that by noon that Monday I was trying to find a way out of there.

Once again there was someone smarter than me that found a way out by Tuesday morning. He got himself kicked out of training and sent home. How did he accomplish this? Let me tell you how this went down. At 5:30 that Monday the shuttle bus came to pick us up from work release and carry us back to the hotel. We were supposed to go to the hotel, eat some dinner, complete our homework, and get to bed early so we would be “bright-eyed and bushy tailed” Tuesday morning. Yeah, I said homework. We had assignments each evening. But what actually happened is this…I talked with some fellow Loan Officers that I didn’t find totally offensive…figured out where we could go get some dinner and drinks….then planned to bar-hop and watch Monday night football.

We got back to the hotel, changed clothes, and summoned the shuttle bus. Once on the shuttle bus, we talked to the driver and offered him cash if he could pick us up later that night somewhere in town after the bars let out. He was so pleased with this arrangement that he gave us his cell phone number. We now had our own personal chauffeur…well…because Cabs are for suckers!

Back to the Loan Officer that got himself sent home from Dante’s Inferno. After a meal and a few drinks; we ended up at a sports bar watching Monday Night Football. Once the game was over we went over to a “College Bar” next door. That is where this guy got so wasted off of tequila shots that he was trying to dance on the bar like the ladies of Coyote Ugly. After the bouncers asked him to step down, he proceeded to grind all over co-eds on the dance floor that weren’t “digging” him. He was a one man train-wreck. His final act of the evening was to puke all over the bar after he tried to buy another round of shots for everyone. At this point he was removed from the bar and wanted to fight the bouncers…bad idea. He ended the night in the care of the local Police. Word spread quickly about his escapades and he was sent home. If you are going to go out…go out in style. He was the lucky one.

On Tuesday I got to sit next to a couple of female loan officers from Tennessee. They both had 80’s "pouffe" blonde hair and wore matching navy blue blazers, white blouses, and navy blue skirts… EVERY day. They looked like Flight Attendants. Being born with the smart-ass gene, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to make Flight Attendant jokes every time I had a few drinks in me. A few of the smart-assed comments I can still recall consisted of “when are you bringing the drink cart by because I am getting thirsty?”. “Can I get a bag of peanuts when you get a chance?”…”Can this seat be used as a floatation device?”

The rest of the week consisted of more torture and hangovers for me. The whole training ended with us taking a test on Friday afternoon. Curly Sue had been performing a vanishing act all week (along with a male Loan Officer from Florida…hmmm) and I hadn’t seen much of her outside the classroom. But she did remind us she was still in the room right before our test. The whole class had assembled and we had our #2 pencils all sharpened ready for the big final test. Right before we got started I heard a *chirp*. Curly Sue and her husband apparently had those annoying red-neck “Nextel” walkie-talkie cell phones. The conversation went like this:

Husband: (CHIRP) Hey…you there woman??!!!

Curly Sue: (CHIRP) Yes.

Husband: (CHIRP) Where you at??!!

Curly Sue: (CHIRP) I’m still in training.

Husband: (CHIRP) Hurry home cuz my dick is lonely!!

Ok….did he just say his dick is lonely??!! Curly Sue turned three shades of red. But seriously, why would you have one of those stupid walkie-talkie phones turned on while you are in a classroom getting ready to take a test? The Munchkin wasn’t amused. I was reasonably certain that she hadn’t been laid in years, so this must have been particularly annoying to her. I took the test and drove out of there like I stole something and never went back. Apparently, I passed the test because I still had a job on the following Monday when I got back to the office. Now I was officially trained to work in Hell.