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A thirty-something mother of one boy and one girl had just celebrated the 10th anniversary of her divorce from her cruel and abusive ex-husband. Aside from a bruised body and bruised credit, her two amazing children were the only things he had ever given her - and for that, she was eternally grateful. He was nearly $100,000 behind on child support already and spent 6 months out of each year in jail because of it. She didn't understand the logic behind that. "How exactly is spending half of their lives in jail going to benefit the children?" she wondered.Despite her bad credit and countless medical bills, she was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to buy the house she had admired for 17 years.Carol, the sweet elderly lady she bought it from, owner-financed it for her. She was almost as happy to sell the nearly 100-year-old house, as the young mother was to buy it. She told her that it had been empty for years because she didn't want to go through all the fuss of listing it only to die before it sold.Over time the two ladies grew close. One day during a visit Carol abruptly told her that she was having her lawyer draw up paperwork to ensure the house would pass to her (free and clear) upon her death. The young mother thanked her for the kind gesture but insisted that she be allowed to pay for it. Carol said "Pay who? I hate to be macabre, dear girl, but I am as old as dirt - I could die any minute - and since I have no family, the county will simply auction off all of my properties. But this way, I know you'll be the undisputed owner without having to jump through any hoops." The young mother was speechless at first but then thanked her profusely.However, when Carol died her late husband's estranged relative showed up from out of state and declared that he was heir to her properties and would be auctioning everything off at the end of the month. Carol's lawyer was a lifelong friend of her late husband's family and was now representing the relative. The lawyer feigned ignorance regarding her wishes - even after hearing a voicemail from Carol saying that she had just finished signing the necessary transfer paperwork at his law office.A lengthy court battle ensued. Unfortunately, Carol's paperwork was never presented - it's existence vehemently denied by the lawyer. Something called a "Dead Man Statute" prevented her wishes and the voicemail from being admissible in court. The Dead Man Statute states that "neither party shall be allowed to testify against the other as to any transaction with or statement by the testator (deceased who left a will) or intestate (deceased who left no will) unless called to testify thereto by the opposite party." The statute goes on to say that "while the statute occasionally causes proof problems, the rule leaves it intact". - - In other words, there would be no mention of her wishes or the voicemail in court unless the relative's lawyer called on the young mother to testify. He was never going to do that and there was nothing she could do.They had warned the young mother to simply move out quietly, but she insisted on taking the matter to court. The judge allowed her to keep her home, but she was given six months to pay the remaining $35,000 balance on the home. The relative's lawyer agreed because he knew she didn't have the cash to pay it off, nor the credit required for a loan. She invested all hope into a relative who planned to pay the balance and allow her to pay him back. As the deadline grew near, her relative was in the process of opening a business and suddenly needed to use that money to cover unforeseen expenses. He wouldn't be able to pay off her house after all. She felt equally torn between sheer panic and grief. She lost all hope of saving her home.With little over a week remaining until the deadline, she began packing their things - sobbing uncontrollably as she went. Her sobs were interrupted by a phone call. Her brother was enthusiastically telling her some story about his day at work - she was hardly listening. Finally, she interrupted his detailed rendition of the story by despondently saying "Can I call you later? I really need to pack." She nearly jumped out of her skin when he barked at her "No! You can't call me later because I'm trying to tell you that you don't need to pack!" After telling a coworker about his sister's ordeal, he responded by saying that he already owner-financed several properties and he might be able to help!On the day of the deadline, she headed to the office of the loathsome lawyer who had caused this mess. She didn't trust the lawyer preparing the new contract, but she remained silent because this was her new financer's chosen attorney as well. She didn't have enough time to renegotiate her contract with the deadline only a couple of hours away. She had no choice but to agree to pay more than double her, now, $30,000 balance ($65,000) along with nearly 11% interest (more than double her previous rate) and a monthly payment that had increased by over $200 dollars as well. She also had to agree not to sell the home until she had made payments for a minimum of 6 years so that the new financer could collect the interest. (the interest alone would be a hefty $66,000 - meaning her final pay off would now be more than $100,000 higher than what she owed just seconds before signing.) The house was still worth substantially more money than what she would end up paying for it, yet even as relief washed over her she had the distinct feeling that she had just been sucker-punched in the gut.Various problems had presented themselves in the house, not unlike most homes that age. Each time she hired an experienced friend or customer to handle the repairs - and each time they had taken her money and neglected to do the job they were hired to do. Such as the man who charged her five separate times to fix her central heat and air unit. (He never fixed it, he simply disconnected the heat so the air would work in the Summer and then disconnected the air so she'd have heat in the Winter. She paid him thousands of dollars before discovering he never fixed the problem, only masked it.)So when her electrical system starting showing signs of a problem she turned to a trusted family member. The issue soon returned despite having all new parts - which led to the assumption that her entire house would have to be rewired and all outlets and fixtures would have to be replaced. The trusted family member worked two full-time jobs every day and was simply unavailable to make the necessary repairs, and the prospect of hiring a stranger was terrifying! The fear of being ripped off again was ever-present in the back of her mind, but the more pressing concern was the cost of the needed repairs. Rewiring the entire home and basement, replacing all fixtures and outlets, replacing the breaker panel and breaker switches, replacing the walls themselves, updating the unit to comply with codes and everything else that would need to be done required far more money than she would likely ever have!For countless months she struggled to repair the electric system. She was so excited when it was working properly again. Only for her joy to be replaced by fear and dread as one outlet after another caught fire. Before long she was unable to plug anything into any outlet. The smallest drain on her electric would cause the power to go off throughout the entire house. Whatever was happening to her electric was also having an impact on the items in her house. First, the television stopped working, (along with every outlet in that section of the house) then the microwave and finally her new refrigerator. It was not safe to use the electricity for any reason, so she had it disconnected.The list of expenses kept increasing, while her available funds were consistently decreasing. She had worked the same job for nearly ten years, but instead of receiving regular pay raises, the past several years she had seen drastic pay cuts. The first pay cut she endured had lowered her salary by 40% (eliminating every pay raise she had ever received in all the years she had worked there). Her income took another significant hit when a new salesperson was hired - cutting her commission earnings in half. It took only a few months for the new guy's salary to surpass her own, but she chose not to let them see how hurt she was by it. Less than a year later she was presented with an ultimatum by her boss: agree to forfeit 100% of her salary (leaving only random sales commission) or find a new job. She agreed to forfeit her salary, with the hope that the upcoming move to a bigger location would increase sales.Upon stepping inside the new building for the first time, she suddenly knew she had made a mistake. Looking around at the various offices it became clear that she was the only employee that didn't have one. This was just another unspoken way of telling her she was not wanted. They had clearly been hoping she would quit. She became sick to her stomach when she realized where her work area would be. They had reserved a spot for her at the far end of the office, tucked into a small corner. The only doors leading outside were at the opposite end of the building, right beside the new guy's private office. She couldn't even see outside from her desk, so her odds of reaching customers before he did were close to zero.You can barely see it, but that's the desk on the far side of the room.Fortunately, through sheer dumb luck, she managed to sell a car or two. Usually, because she happened to be outside when customers arrived. Other than that, the sales always tipped in the new guy's favor by a score of about 15 to 1. She didn't blame him - he was a nice guy - it wasn't his fault this was happening to her. The one bright spot she found was that her boss learned that he legally had to pay her at least minimum wage each week. The sporadic weeks that she actually earned commission he wasn't required to give her the minimum wage base pay. So even when she was lucky enough to have a sale, she barely surpassed minimum wage.She came home from work crying every day. Although she couldn't really go "home". So much time had passed since she had "come home from work" that she couldn't even remember the last time she was able to sleep in her own bed. She and her two kids (now teenagers) had gone from staying at her brother's house, to more recently, her mother's house. There was simply no way she could afford to rent a place and continue paying for her house at the same time - she barely made enough to cover her house payment.She should have found a new job, but she was scared. She had barely survived one disaster after another and she was afraid quitting her job would only make her struggle significantly harder. She had already had two vehicles stolen from her and their cheap replacements were no longer running. Luckily her boss had loaned her an old clunker someone had traded in - otherwise, she would've been left walking to work each day.She was now essentially car-less, homeless (even though she was still paying for her home) and consistently broke (even though she worked full-time at the same job for almost a decade). She couldn't afford to be unemployed; Hell, she could barely afford to be employed. She practically lived off of Ramen noodles and peanut butter crackers while she struggled to afford to pay for the beloved house she had fought so hard to keep - yet hadn't lived in for the past 3 years.Her house had been robbed multiple times while they were living elsewhere. She had spent her entire life accumulating the things in her home; but now she no longer had anything of value besides a couple of large pieces of furniture, a few knick-knacks, and items of purely sentimental value. She was grateful when her uncle Frank asked to stay at her house a few nights a week. He was a lifelong alcoholic who was forbidden from drinking where he lived, so to him, it was worth it to sacrifice electricity for the chance to drink some beer.His presence surprised intruders on more than one occasion. His stout build and deep voice helped ensure they'd never return. A few months ago the young mother saw that the front door to her house was slightly open. She hurriedly pulled in her driveway and rushed to the door, expecting to find an intruder bagging up her belongings. Instead, she got the scare of her life when a booming, angry voice echoed down the hall saying "WHO THE HELL IS IN HERE?!" It was Frank. He was in the bathroom - door wide open - doing his business. Luckily she hadn't yet made it two steps in the front door. She shouted her apologies and promptly retreated.About two months ago she stopped by the house on her way back to work after lunch and ran inside to get Frank for her mom, who was waiting in the car. She learned her lesson the last time, so this time she knocked. No answer. She opened the door and shouted "Frank!". She didn't know if he was there or not but certainly didn't want to walk in on him like she nearly did before. She kept calling out to him but he clearly wasn't there. She had barely made it to the bathroom door when she decided to abandon her search and leave. As she turned back towards the front door she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She walked backward a few steps towards the bathroom and realized Frank was kneeling in front of the toilet, resting his cheek on the outer edge of the seat - utterly exhausted from vomiting.Concerned, she quickly said, "Frank, are you okay?" He didn't reply, he simply stared at her - his eyes pleading with her to help him. She walked over to him and said "Frank?" once more before reaching out to touch his shoulder. She instinctively jerked her fingers away as if she had touched a hot burner on a stove. Except Frank's skin wasn't hot at all - it was ice cold. She met his eyes once more as horror and sadness and shock all raced to the surface. It was then that she noticed all the blood. She ran out of the house, nearly collapsing in the yard and screaming "He's dead! He's dead!". She doesn't remember, but she must've said it dozens of times. She also doesn't remember the frantic call she made to 911 (though before she dialed she knew she was too late) or the call her mom kept reminding her to make to say she wouldn't be coming back in to work that day. All she could remember were Frank's eyes pleading with her for help. But she was too late.Family started pouring in from New York and Florida to attend Frank's service. She struggled to keep it together as everyone caught up on each other's lives. She had hardly heard a word that was said. She couldn't get the image of him out of her head - even when she was sleeping, she dreamt of finding him like that, over and over each night.A few days after Frank's service, her mother announced that she was going with her sister back to Florida. She completely understood the urge to get away, after all, her mom was the only other person who had seen Frank like that.Her mom returned a month later for a doctor's appointment, but after only a few days at home, she quickly headed back to Florida. Another month passed before her mom called her with the big news: she was moving to Florida permanently. For a few seconds, she felt happy for her mom - she knew how lonely life can be without friends or anyone else to talk to; she had felt it immensely lately.Soon the joy turned to panic. The realization set in that she had hardly had a real conversation with anyone since her mom left. She's called her a few times but always got the feeling she was interrupting, so she stopped trying. She hasn't had close friends in years. She hasn't had any friends - not even distant ones - in years. Her kids are often too busy with their own lives and talking with their friends to want to talk very much to her. Her siblings all have their own struggles to preoccupy their time - they certainly didn't need to be burdened by hers. At work, she now feels like the odd-man-out. She'd have a better chance of disappearing completely than she would of someone striking up a conversation with her there. Her life has been such a series of negative events that she took dating off of the menu years ago. If she hadn’t found Quora (and the amazing people she has encountered here) then she would feel completely and utterly alone.She was so preoccupied with feeling sorry for herself that it hadn't yet dawned on her that they were about to be homeless! Not the same level of homeless they currently were (sleeping on her mom's sofa bed) but completely without a home to sleep in. She suddenly couldn't breathe. She bent over in an attempt to stop hyperventilating. She didn't want her kids to hear. (It was 11:00 pm on a school night, so they were already asleep, but she was terrified they'd hear her and even more terrified that they'd hear why.)She didn't know what she was going to do or where she was going to go with her kids and their dog. Her most pressing concern was how in the world she was going to tell them. She had already felt like a total failure every day for the past several years - how was she going to reassure them when she couldn't find one reassuring thought for herself?She decided to wait until the weekend to tell them so they'd have a couple of days to process it before going back to school - she knew how hard it was to make it through the day with that weighing on you and she wanted to spare them whatever pain she could. She decided to tell them after work on Saturday so she could spend the rest of the weekend with them. She was afraid if she waited any longer someone else might spring it on them.She needed to give them as much time as possible to wrap their heads around the idea because the timing was far from ideal. Her mom would be back to sell or move her things sometime between her daughter's 15th birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas. (Her son's birthday wasn't far behind Christmas.) This was the worst possible timing!She was already forced to fight back tears each time her daughter mentions what she wants for her birthday - and she excitedly talks about her birthday all year. (She wants an iPhone 6 - - not a 10 or 11, but a 6! - She can't even manage that and it breaks her heart.) The only other thing she asked for is a huge bucket of fries from her favorite burger joint - she's a vegetarian now, so all she wants is the fries. This doesn't seem like too much to ask, yet it is.Neither of her kids have ever asked for very much. Her son now asks for even less - precisely nothing. She knows it's because he sees her struggle and that kills her more than anything. The prospect of her sweet, good kids being homeless on their birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas was just more than she could bear. She rushed to the bathroom and sobbed as quietly as she could.What was the point in writing all of this?I wrote this for two reasons, the first is because I want to change people's perceptions about the homeless. Admit it, when you picture a homeless person you visualize a dirty older man dressed in rags who is probably an alcoholic Vietnam war veteran, right? While there are undoubtedly plenty of homeless people who fit that description, there are also many others who don't.The second reason I wrote this was because I thought it might be helpful for people to get an inside look at how easily people can become homeless. How quickly one small problem can become compounded by other simultaneous small problems. I wanted people to understand that all it takes is a series of unfortunate events to leave an entire family homeless and hopeless. I wanted to show you how even homeowners who have worked full-time for a decade at the same job can be homeless.I also wanted to explain the series of unfortunate events that transpired and how each one played a role and directly impacted the others. Mostly, I just wanted to reflect on this seemingly never-ending struggle and draw whatever strength I can from it. I'm writing this for courage. Not just for courage to do what needs to be done, but for extra courage to give to my kids when I tell them, a couple of hours from now, that we are about to be homeless.**EDIT: Some lovely Quora friends have pressured me (quite harshly) to create a Go Fund Me account (titled “A Way Back Home"). The link to the Go Fund Me page can be found by clicking on my profile[1], if you’d like to offer kind words or help of any kind. (I'm sorry, I don't think I'm allowed to add a link here or in the comments)Thank you all so much for listening, caring and for all of the many ways you are helping us through this awful experience. My kids and I will never forget you.***UPDATE:My mom is flying “home" the first week of December to pack and move all of her things. Fortunately, she has agreed to allow us to stay in her apartment afterwards — until Christmas. My kids will have some semblance of a home for Christmas and for that I'm extremely grateful.Thank you all again for all of your help and your unbelievable kindness. You have all helped to make this situation hurt a lot less by making me feel like my kids and I do have people who care and are there for us. You have offered hope to a family who desperately needs it and I can't begin to tell you how much that means to me. Thank you so much!Image credits:Me (that is my house)Me (that is my desk)Chatanooga pulseFootnotes[1] Riki Jones

Turning off the electricity in order to prompt a tenant to vacate the rental is called a self help eviction, and is illegal as fuck.Don't do it.That would be a good first step to potentially losing your investment. (I recommend you watch the movie Pacific Heights, starring Michael Keaton.)An elderly, infirm tenant that has life sustaining medical equipment that requires electricity to operate suffered an unfortunate series of events that led to his rent falling into arrears. Landlord says, FTS, turns off the electricity, tenant dies, landlord is convicted of involuntary manslaughter. Not likely, but still within the realm of possibility.I asked the duck for info about self help evictions and was given a whole slew of links to follow:self help eviction at DuckDuckGoJust don't do it.Now, you claim an “eviction notice had been served.” I don't think you understand what an “eviction notice” is, or know the proper procedure to have a deadbeat tenant removed from your rental. There are several reasons why a landlord would want a tenant out of his rental. The most common reason for it is for nonpayment of the rent, so for this exercise, I am going to use that reason and sketch out how you should proceed. (Different states may have different rental laws, so there may be variations on how this all fleshes out from one state to the next.) The lease that you and your tenant signed should contain this info.The rent is due on the 1st and is late on the 2nd of the month, but has until the 10th to pay without any additional penalties or late fees being assessed. On the 11th, the landlord posts a 3 day notice to pay rent or quit.This 3 day notice is NOT an eviction notice. An eviction can only be ordered by a judge in a court of law.On the 15th of the month, the landlord would then go to the court house to file papers to get the eviction process started. The clerk will schedule a hearing. Bring all your evidence. Landlords almost always win eviction decisions. The judge will then order a sheriff and a locksmith to arrive at the rental unit to carry out the eviction. The tenant will be escorted off the premises, forcibly if necessary. A locksmith will change the locks and secure the windows. Depending upon which state you live in, a moving company will take your belongings to a storage facility, or the landlord could put all your stuff on the sidewalk or front yard with a free sign on it. In neither model would the tenant's belongings be treated with an ounce of care.The landlord does not order or carry out an eviction. That can only be done by a judge in a court of law.

No, No job is horrible, it is our intent that makes it a horrible affair. I have served in a public sector bank as Asst Manager for 3.5 years, so I find myself qualified enough to answer this question.It all starts when you come across a friend who is preparing for Bank Exams. Seeing the calender you see that IBPS conducts exam really fast and without corruption. You see that rosy picture and get carried away by the TAG of an officer. WOW…it feels. You will get to become an officer at a young age without going through all that unpredictability and uncertainty in other exams. Just one exam with a defined syllabus and you can have a settled life. You prepare your heart out for the exam and eventually manage to clear the exam. Your name appears on the Final merit list and you are on cloud nine.Now, you join the bank and have all those noble thoughts that you will work nicely, have a healthy life and peace and happiness and what not. Since I was recruited for agriculture, I had dreams of putting my knowledge to revive the low productivity levels of agriculture sectors and to impart Transfer of Knowledge and technology. One fine day you get the date you have to report and you get your new clothes and somewhere in your mind you are excited about the new job.But then, the DAY comes.The rosy picture you painted in your mind goes for a toss when you see the Branch. You think you are an officer and the clerks would pay regards to you, but WTF, they are treating you like you are their child, sometimes calling you “beta”. Talking non sense talks like you do in a personal relationship quite contrary to the style of professionalism you have been acclimatized to during your study in the reputed universities of India. Now you question the level of professionalism of the organisation. Somethings you feel should not be there which are unethical like customers being ill treated by staff, clerks not listening, clerks denying to do the work assigned directly on face. It brings utter humiliation and embarrassment to you.Remember you have not been trained or even received any basic orientation about the Bank by now. They will give you targets since Day 1.5 loans a day.5 OTS per day.(Recovery)5 APY a dayOther things I am not saying, some other answers cover it well.You fail to achieve and see the way in which you are talked with. They can abuse your mother your sister and what not, they make you feel unworthy, use less and ultimately helpless. Sooner or later you loose your spark and end up being tparty to the same lot whom you regarded as indisciplined and unprofessional. You cannot leave the bank because they will demand you to give back the BOND money along with 3 months of GROSS SALARY, along with TRAINING costs,(which was useless), which cumulatively amounted to Rs. 535000/- in my case. Now you are trapped and you feel claustrophobic. you can’t go anywhere and donot have resources enough to pay for it. Now you choose, whether to continue or to move on by paying the money, but then you make a choice to stay. You make a plan to complete your Bond period and then resign. You choose to prepare for UPSC or any other exam, but since the bank expects you to stay Late ,sometime till 9 pm-10 pm under the pretext that you are single and hence expendable. You cannot do anything nicely. The Manager abuses you at will very badly, infront of subordinates and customers, as a result you loose your sense of respect among the subordinates, who now even dont mind in not wishing you and feel pride in negating your authority. You feel helpless and make a choice to approach the Regional Office to explain the situation. But they are insensitive and say, that you are not special, and they have also gone through it. In turn they burden you with heavier targets, and hurl abuses. Another thing they do is to attach branches. In my case, I was given responsibility of 8 branches, the entire day you have a Field officer bike and you keep riding around the entire day from one branch to another, till late night.Ultimately you cannot take any more and become a REBEL. But somewhere you were a dedicated and Nice Guy. And you still feel bad when you are abused. But you can’t retaliate. You are bound by the laws governing our country.( and the bank off course).You start avoiding work and allow being yelled at, abused at, pointed fingers at and what not. You are in an emotional mess. Those late night phone calls, from customers and bank management asking for the progress, that nosy sycophant boss calling you names and pressure of overambitious targets, takes a toll on your health as well. You end up being a very unstable, un charactered and indecent person. YOU ARE MESSED UP. Now you have completed two years at the bank, and you resign. But alas, your resignation is not accepted in the first go. You are tormented and asked all sorts of non sense stuff just for humiliation sake. Those last three months of notice period are hell. They make it a point that you take back your resignation and dont quit.Because it has taken a hell lot of effort and dedication by the douchebag team of “professionals”, to mess you up. And they wouldnt get a slave for this cheap easily. They term it as investment. Finally the date gets set for you to be free. And you literally beg them to let you go. After providing them so many unethical favours and ego massaging at every step of wanting to resign. They finally let you go, WISHING YOU BEST OF LUCK IN YOUR FUTURE ENDEAVORS.BUT UNDER A HEADER THAT YOU MAY BE CALLED U ANYTIME IN FUTURE FOR ANY PENDING ENQUIRY OR ANY BULLSHIT. You feel bitter, by now. You have lost your esteem and respect. You move in society with your head low. As if you have been fired. You are angry at them, but what is the point. You are emotionally damaged by now, you feel depression and think of commiting suicide. You have lost your spark by now, with a point of no return. You have lost your ability to focus at ease and do things perfectly and you are not going anywhere.Why did this situation come??Due to lack of awareness.Bank is a Government Job.- No, Bank is very much like a private job, with the exception of Government of having 51% shares, thats it.Bank Officer- No brother, you are not an officer, its similar like being a customer care executive in BPO, you are that sort of officer.You are there to manage- Yes, but all you can manage is how you will do the manual work. The classical definition of management is missing from here, and you donot get the work done, but you do the work yourself.You have powers at least in the Bank- No, only responsibilities, No power. If a clerk or sub staff talks rashly to you, all you can do is to “ Request” him to not talk to you like that. Thats it. You can not issue a charge sheet or suspension.Even if he is wrong. Their Union is strong and will stand against you to thrash you, management will also not support youAll you do in the bank is just sit and attend customers- No, No, No…..The bank is run on profits, and not social service. They may give you a target of getting ten loans today, get it from anywhere they donot care. Just get it.If not be prepared to bear the brunt.Now the thing with loans is A. Its not aloo gibhi that you give to any one….B. You cannot “make some one” take a loan, you can improve your services to attract people, you can market your product, but you cannot force someone to take loan. C.Recoveries- You have to beg with your hands folded, people not giving money, rising NPA, but you cannot fight them or they will file FIR in individual capacity, all you can do is file for a suit or RC, which goes into Tehsil jurisdiction and we all know how they work. The management forces you to recover money just somehow, or again Abuses and humiliation. So, you have to make people do things, which is again pronblematic beacuse your performance depends on any tom dick and harrys performance.It is a respectable job- Fuck respect, it will even take away your own self respect. You are just a punching bag for Management and dustbin, and for clerks it is a matter of pride to take on some one senior technically.It is 10–5 job- No, 10–10So, according to me it is a cognitive suicide, emotional suicide, and most importantly a spiritual suicide.The problem is that those who have never been to the bank start commenting about bank, and misguide the people about the situation. And also those people who have quora credentials as Retd. Banker. Banking in their time was a different ball game altogether. At that time branches used to have a staff of 100 people in a branch. now the same branch has 5 people.So, the end of the story,Banking like any other job is a job. which is a bit tough but not undoable. The mistakes that we make while selecting bank as a career is in haste, desperation or lack of knowledge/awareness. and when those aspirations are not met with, e feel really bad, and it is a disastrous position to be in. The mere fact that people qualified an exam is in itself a proof that you are intelligent. Still why are there so many people criticising a bank job. There may be some reasons.Bank’s policies suck.It is a slave owner relationship.It does not utilize your intellectual skills. So good Thinkers just stay away.It is a market type job, so it is for people who can talk like baniya and shopkeepers. Mindlessly and for hours and hours with profit in mind.Banks are mismanaged by these desi management practices. and by ass holes. who were themselves fucked by their bosses.It is not a government job.Pay is very low to maintain safe standards of living.Cultural differences when you are posted to another city or culture. Problem is not in serving else where but in being dependent on them, since you are not provided quarters, and you have to rent a place, which gets you vulnerable.Its very much like Private culture, only worse.Its not an English speaking society, they yell maa ki bahan ki, at full scale in branch while taling to each other.You cannot make a positive contribution. I once brutally shoooed away a dalal in my branch and put an end to dalali culture. customers were happy while the Senior bankers were unhappy, and troubled me unnecessarily. Guess you understand the links.I never had a fight or standoff with customers till date. I respect them because its for and because of them bankers are there. What I hate is the sick ideology of there bank wallahs who donot accord necessary powers to the young lot of the bank, and in turn want them to be like them. To hear all that non sense and sharma varma talks, leisures and discussion of politics during bank hours.These bank wallahs are napunsak, why, because they donot have the guts to stand for truth, and admit that there practices are bad. They just dont want to improve. and they never will. They only understand the language of RBI and FinMin. When they take the class of the Gm and DGm, they literally pee in their pants.So, my friend, if you are under two conditions,You desperarely need a job since you have no one to support your family, take it, atleast you will be doing service to your family.You are utterly passionate for banking as a subject and you respect this discipline next to god.You are exceptionally good at manipulating people an can talk sweetly on face ie. double standard talker. Go for it.You are an expendable, parents want to get rid of you, go for it.You have no sense of prestige, esteem, respect, heirarchy, discipline, and love non sense, go foor it.You are chronically messed up and there is no further scope of screwing up your life, try banking for sure. PSB are masters of screwing.You dont have problems with people abusing you badly for no issue, and even you have a problem studying or doing some thing that requires your intellectual side.Choice is yours, I’m telling you all this, to let you know that how much I love you, and dont want you to spoil your life. Choose wisely.Capitalism is a good slave but a bad master. Value your health first, family second, and after that everything else.Sorry for the answer written so fast that i may have made gramattical mistakes, I am on my way for my appointment with psychiatrist, one of by products of working in a bank, I am 28 and on verge of chronic organ system failure, i’m obesed, and extremely weak.All for the sake of bank, because at that time, my health and self respect were lower than bank’s profits.Again choose wisely.