Customer Was Thumbs Down on Bank’s Service

When Brian Treadway cashed a check at a Wells Fargo bank in the San Fernando Valley, he was thumb-printed because he didn’t have an account there. Already a bit miffed, he then told the teller that he couldn’t remove the thumbprint goo (which was supposed to “just rub off”) and lamented the fact that the bank didn’t supply “a towel or Handi Wipe or something.” She wrote down the phone number for customer service on a piece of paper and handed it to him. Later, he looked at the note and “was enraged to see that the teller had mockingly scribbled 1-800-TOWELLS.”

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Then he realized that the note said 1-800-TO-WELLS, the number for Wells Fargo.

WORKWOMAN’S COMP? A reader sent along today’s junk mail selection with a note that said, “Yes, I am female, but what does that have to do with [workers’] comp? Would a man get a different letter?” (see accompanying).

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ENOUGH SAID: Here’s a second batch of strange questions asked by attorneys in court cases, as recounted in the humorous book, “The Howls of Justice,” by retired L.A. Superior Court Judge Harry T. Shafer and writer Angie Papadakis.

Your witness, counselor.

* “Do you suffer any pain other than when you breathe?”

* “You say that you cannot remember the accident but can you say that the accident has in any way affected your memory, or don’t you remember?”

* “After the accident, you went directly to the hospital and, to the best of your knowledge, would you please tell us what was bothering you, at that point in time, besides your wife’s yelling?

* “You have testified that you can bend forward with your head, but can you touch your toes with your chin?”

* “Without relating the conversation, tell us what was said?”

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IT BECAME A JUNGLE OUT THERE: In “Tarzan Forever: The Life of Edgar Rice Burroughs,” author John Taliaferro relates that the creator of the “Tarzan” novels grew disenchanted with the bucolic San Fernando Valley town he helped create in the 1920s.

By 1948, in Taliaferro’s words, Tarzana defined “the new American ideal of strip, drive-in and sprawl.”

And Burroughs--then 73--lamented in a letter that his granddaughter “has few opportunities to meet very nice people” in the area, because the schools seemed “overrun by hot rod drivers and other morons with dirty fingernails and no Emily Post training.”

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LA L.A.? A while back, this column published a photo of a broken “Miracle Mile” sign on Wilshire Boulevard that read, “le Mile.”

And then there was the photo here of the Packard Grill Diner-turned-dental clinic (the Packard facade atop the roof had been retained but given a toothy smile by the new owners).

All of which caught the attention of Prof. Christophe Lagier, a newcomer to this country who teaches French at Cal State L.A.

Lagier said “le Mile” made him feel right at home. And the toothy Packard sign, which is not far from his house, fascinated him.

“I thought that was one of those Californian all-in-one places where you get both your car and teeth cleaned and repaired at the same time,” he said. “Hey, maybe I am on to something.”

miscelLAny:

Spotting an “unauthorized vehicles warning” sign that was missing stickers for the name and phone number of the local towing company, a jokester in San Diego filled in the blanks--while keeping in mind the fast-food outlet’s current commercial campaign (see photo).