BofA, WTF?

So I'm in my local BofA branch office Saturday morning, because I have to deposit a personal check that the newfangled ATM won't accept because the signatory to the check accidentally signed over the numbers at the bottom, making the numbers apparently unreadable to BofA's ATM computers. I walk in, fill out my deposit slip, and get in line. There are three people in front of me. A BofA employee is standing next to the line in a conspicuous red BofA polo shirt, individually speaking (rather loudly) with each patron, one at a time. "Hi, how are you?" he says. "Uh, I'm fine," says the patron. "What can I help you with," says the BofA guy. "Uh, nothing really, I'm just here to make a deposit," says the patron. "Well, do you use our online bill pay service?" says the BofA guy. "Um, well, actually, yes," says the patron. "Would you like to know how to get access to $100 of your deposit immediately," says BofA guy. "Um, not really," says patron. "Well, here's how you do it," he begins to explain and then waxes eloquent about how if you use the ATM, the $100 becomes available immediately, but if you make a deposit inside at the branch location, one apparently does not get the same immediate access to the funds. I'm paraphrasing, of course. What he said took much longer. The content of his answer made it sound to me like he simply didn't want any of us coming into the branch. Which of course raises the question as to why there is a branch in the first place. These questions and answers went on for a good five minutes as he badgered each person in line. There were conversations about private banking matters ranging from getting mortgage relief help to getting a new mortgage to other types of financing and saving options. I thought to myself, I sure hope he doesn't try and talk with me about my private banking matters in the lobby of a branch office with a bunch of people I don't know standing around. That's kind of crass. Then he gets to me. "Hi, how's it going?" says BofA guy. "I'm all set, thank you," I politely say, smiling and naively thinking that this will bring his potential sales attempt to a premature end. "Oh, okay. Can I help you in any way?," says BofA guy. "No, I'm all set, thank you," I reply, naively thinking that this guy is pretty dense, because my words and non-verbal communication are hollering "you're wasting your time here." It quickly becomes clear, however, that he is not dense. He is not dense in the least. He simply doesn't care that he is badgering people who don't want to be badgered. "Do you use our online bill pay?" he asks. "Thanks, really, but I didn't come in here to get sold something, I'm all set," I say. "Oh, okay," he says. BofA guy continues, "When you come into the branch, there will always be someone here to see if they can help you and be of service." "Okay," I say, thinking to myself that I didn't really sign up to be subjected to lame attempts at social interaction when my prior bank was bought by BofA. Certainly not when the interaction seems genuinely designed to deter me from coming back and/or sell me something I do not want and/or haven't expressed any interest in or need for. A moment passes. Instead of moving on, BofA guy says to me, "Hey, those are really nice glasses, where did you get those?" At this point, I just can't help myself. I know the question is bullshit, because I've had these glasses for almost two years, and I can count the number of comments I've gotten about them on one hand. Moreover, all the comments came from people who would have favorably commented on my glasses even if they were the ugliest glasses in the universe. I wish I could help myself, but I just can't. So I turn to him and say, "Are you actually trying to be annoying?" (At which point, the guy in front of me obviously does everything within his power to not bust out laughing while the BofA guy is still there.) It immediately becomes apparent that none of the other patrons think this guy is anything other than maximally annoying, and that they all wish he would just go sit down in the back somewhere and shut the heck up. "Uh, no, I'm just . . . well . . . there is always someone in here to be of service," he says. "Thank you, I'm all set," I say. Later, after I've deposited my checks, as I'm leaving the bank, BofA guy hollers over in my direction, "Have a nice day," which, at that point, was pretty dang funny.