HOW I FAINTED AFTER CHECKING MY BANK BALANCE
HOW I FAINTED AFTER CHECKING MY BANK BALANCE
It was a day like any other—sun shining, birds chirping, people pretending to be productive, and me pondering my ROI in life. I had just finished my third cup of coffee, fully convinced that today my bank account would reflect the wealth I dreamed of in investment portfolios, stock market profits, or cryptocurrency surges. Spoiler alert: the financial forecast was grim.
. I decided it was time to check my bank account, the ultimate portal to passive income, savings, and digital banking magic. I opened the app with the excitement reserved for IPO launches, high-yield savings announcements, or the sudden rise of a fintech unicorn. My fingers hovered like a day trader anticipating a sudden bullish trend.
The screen loaded painfully slowly, stretching suspense like a long-term investment strategy that never matures. I braced for a balance that would affirm my net worth, my financial planning skills, and my mastery of asset allocation. And then it appeared.
The number blinked at me, crueler than a margin call in the stock market. My eyes widened. My jaw dropped. The digits glared like cryptocurrency charts crashing overnight. My wealth management dreams had been vaporized.
“Surely this is a mistake,” I muttered, hoping the universe—or perhaps my fintech app—would reverse the losses. Maybe my account had been misallocated into a rogue digital banking fund, or perhaps a hacker mistook me for an angel investor.
I pressed refresh. Nothing. My balance remained a barren wasteland, an empty portfolio where dividends and interest once lived. I pinched myself. Still nothing. The cruel reality: my financial planning had been insufficient for survival in this harsh global economy.
I attempted aggressive finger taps, as if tapping could trigger a market rebound in my favor. Maybe if I clicked fast enough, my savings would multiply like passive income streams or automated stock reinvestments. Spoiler: no such luck.
I tried rationalizing. “Maybe these numbers are in dollars? Surely my wealth is measured in cryptocurrency or global assets?” But the app displayed local currency with merciless accuracy. No conversions. No mercy. No ROI.
I scrolled through previous transactions, praying for a clerical error, a mistaken loan from Elon Musk, or perhaps an unexpected inheritance from a wealthy uncle. Maybe some viral TikTok content had sent me millions in cryptocurrency tips. None of it had happened.
Instead, I discovered financial devastation: mysterious debits, automatic bill payments, and fees I didn’t even authorize. Each entry felt like a market crash, a rogue hedge fund siphoning my life savings, and a brutal reminder that my asset allocation strategy was nonexistent.
My knees buckled. The world spun like a volatile stock market reacting to geopolitical news. Gravity itself seemed to mock me, pulling me into an abyss of digital banking despair. And then it happened: the faint.
I collapsed backward onto the couch, arms flailing like a leveraged investor during a market meltdown. My cat stared, unimpressed, as if silently critiquing my poor portfolio management. Oxygen abandoned me in solidarity with my financial tragedy. Somewhere in the distance, a neighbor sneezed. The refrigerator hummed, indifferent to the global economic collapse in my hands.
When I came to, the coffee cup had tipped over, spilling what little energy remained. I attempted to sit up, only to realize the room spun like the crypto market after Elon Musk tweets. My phone had slid screen-down. I dared not glance at it; even the smallest exposure to those numbers could trigger another financial fainting episode.
Curiosity—or perhaps masochism—eventually won. I gingerly picked up the phone. My balance had not changed. The digits glared like tiny, merciless demons, mocking my attempts at digital wealth accumulation.
I tried rationalizing. “Maybe I am rich in experiences. Maybe money is just a social construct. Maybe my passive income is spiritual.” But spiritual wealth does not pay electricity bills, internet bills, or the staggering cost of instant noodles in a globalized economy.
I texted a friend: “Hey, just checked my bank account. Not feeling so great.”
The reply was instantaneous: “Bro, same. I feel personally attacked by my own finances.”
A wave of solidarity washed over me. Others had experienced similar financial meltdowns, from cryptocurrency crashes to failed stock trades. But mine felt monumental, historic, a case study in poor asset allocation.
I considered calling customer service. Surely there must be an explanation—clerical errors, fraudulent withdrawals, or an accidental transfer to a billionaire’s offshore account. But banks, I realized, are designed to make you feel powerless, insignificant, and perpetually at risk of financial fainting.
I resigned myself to the inevitable. I poured another cup of coffee, hoping caffeine would stabilize my trembling body and my economic expectations. It did not. Hours passed as I stared at my balance, each digit a merciless commentary on my financial planning failures.
I considered radical solutions: selling furniture, offering freelance services, liquidating cryptocurrency, or becoming a social media influencer overnight. Anything to resurrect my account from this barren wasteland.
Evening came. My energy spent, I ate dinner—reheated instant noodles that cost a fraction of my hypothetical financial gains. My cat approached, sniffed my face, and departed, unimpressed by my banking trauma.
I realized life is cruel, absurd, and darkly humorous. My fainting was performance art, a testament to the psychological impact of poor financial planning and neglected retirement funds. Each collapse mirrored stock market volatility and unpredictable cryptocurrency swings.
By nightfall, I had accepted my financial reality. I would survive, eat, sleep, and continue living in fiscal purgatory. Yet the fainting left an indelible memory, a cautionary tale about the dangers of ignoring asset management, passive income, and investment diversification.
I imagined my bank account regaining consciousness one day, behaving like a responsible fintech startup generating dividends and interest. Until then, I would continue fainting in spirit, laughter, and despair, honoring the tragicomic absurdity of modern financial life.
😂 Don’t Miss Out On The Madness!
I drop brand-new funny, wild, and brain-sparking stories daily at exactly 10 AM & 6 PM — twice a day! From “Naija wahala” to global comedy gist, I deliver laughter hotter than Lagos sun ☀️ Subscribe now or risk missing your daily dose of “hilarious wisdom”! 😎🔥
🚀 Join the laughter squad — your inbox will thank you later! 💌 #DavidDWriter | Daily dose of joy, two times a day 😁
Comments
Post a Comment