I knew that this could happen to me just like other colleagues. But I was expecting perhaps a stroke of luck or that the kindness with which the executive received me, the first time I entered his office, could be a good omen that they would not close an account for me again.
"Reputational risk," he explained to me, while I remembered those clients who look exactly like him when they come to visit me: elegant attire, exclusive design, dark glasses. The same ones who tell me stories about loneliness and about the affections broken by so many years of sacred bond. They then treat me as they would with a wife made to measure, except for the small detail that reminds them of who I am, after the reason why they come to me is complete.
How could I defend myself against an argument that sounds so reasonable? With so much decency. I, who dedicate myself to the "oldest profession in the world", that phrase that some articulate so poetically, as if it were a verse rehearsed for the first time.
Because my money bears the mark of dishonor, that of the tragic imaginary of the rescue NGOs, of the documentaries that try to compassionately portray my stained stock, while they make their own business, introducing every five minutes, erotic images with filters Violet, in case the critical and reflective content is not enough for your audience.
I'm not saying that part of it is not what ordinary people think. Decidedly mine was not a matter of vocation and yet I must say that my course has been more fortunate: I do not have a pimp who mistreats me and I almost always choose my clients. My work may displease me as much as the eternal routine of a waitress, or a supermarket cashier, or any of those other honest jobs that often offer us as an alternative to salvation. But salvation comes with the acceptance of a boss with all kinds of rights and an impossible pay and schedule. That slave misery that refreshes my memory of why I took this path.
Maybe that's why I went to the bank, forgetting my job, forgetting my daily routine and the excessive imaginary that awakens in others. I was determined to save the amount that would allow me to finance the early retirement that the nature of my work imposes.
But when I'm about to decide to try it in a third bank, a word appears in my head as if taken from the bottom of an old drawer; a word I heard from a young boy who visits me unfailingly every month. When he told me it was a coin that "made" computers, I did not pay as much attention as when he told me that there was no need for banks with them. That idea resonated with me. I went back to ask him about a new visit and he showed me on his cell phone what he called a "purse" and what he had kept there: something called "bitcoin".
When I asked him what I could buy with that, he told me that still very little, but that maybe it would be a good way to save my money. He downloaded a "purse" on my cell phone and convinced me to receive payment for my bitcoin service. Within minutes, the amount was already in my own purse. I think I fell in love ... with this money without banks. This idea was what prompted me to continue to find out.
I do not know if it solves my problem completely. But I decided to put part of my savings in bitcoin. At this point I know I can climb like foam or take my money to the abyss. However, I pay attention to my intuition, which tells me that something important is at hand. I even mentioned it to other clients: some reacted with the raised eyebrow that draws the presence of the strange; others, already knew him and were surprised to know that I too ("do you really know about that?").
Over time locate a bitcoin exchange network to the money of my country. Nobody asks me anything, the transaction simply happens. I found out that there are other women, dedicated to the same thing as me, who go around the world promoting this and other cryptocurrencies (that's how they're really called). I still like bitcoin but maybe I'll try another one later.
For now, I'm not going to try another bank. Not now that I have one of my own; one that does not evaluate the way in which I survive and that also has only one face.
