As Vinyl swiftly trotted to the bank, she pondered the events of the day previous, carefully considering what had happened, and the ramifications of the Bassenator's mishap. She felt that the experience, once the sound system had been turned up to the max, had been extremely immersive, not only satisfying for her, but potentially beneficial also.
Vinyl was an audiophile, it came with her line of work. As such, she knew that further exposure to professional sound of that quality and intensity could help her to further understand the nuances of sound, which she could then impart to her own tracks. The discovery was a potential creative gold mine, one that she would have made prior to yesterday, if not for the fact that she was worried about antagonising her roommate, or worse, deafening her.
Vinyl had conditioned herself over the years to withstand gratuitous amounts of noise, with all the raves and club nights she had attended, and the constant headphone use. Either her body had acclimated to the stress of all the noise, or she had gone partially deaf, she never really thought about which it was.
On one hand, the experience was enlightening, the applications of such a discovery are staggering, plus it sounded freaking powerful. On the other, the house is trashed, and I'm going to have to pay for all of the repairs, as per Tavi's decree.
Vinyl concluded that she had won.
With her small, placid smile ever present, she kept up her trot, taking a scenic route so as to pass a little more time, but keeping her pace, as she did not like to move slowly. Vinyl's energy could wane almost randomly at times, which was partially due to her arbitrary sleeping pattern, and partially to the intensity of her work, which could depend on a plethora of things.
When touring or frequenting a venue she would barely sleep, sometimes restricting herself to 20 minute naps every 3 hours for days at a time, a process which required a lot of discipline, which her casual and carefree demeanor belied her possessing. When recording new music, fatigue would come and go, to the point that she had found herself sleeping in the studio on multiple occasions. As a result of the randomly occurring exertion, she had learnt to exercise moderation.
Vinyl would try not to slow down so much that she would lull herself into a withdrawn state and become lazy, with unordered thoughts, but also not to jump around like a lunatic all of the time, and allow herself to become drained twice as fast.
Hmm, I could call it pragmatic meditation. Or meditative pragmatism? Too wordy. Plus, then it sounds like I'm discussing philosophy, or does it? I'd rather not get into semantics right now, these things always turn into perpetual loops anyway, I never win against me. Think Vinyl, change the subject. Hmm, arguing makes me thing of Tavi, but I hardly need to think of Tavi more than I already do.
Jeez, she was really upset after yesterday, and I was selfish. I absolutely loathe the fact that it was my goading that pushed Tavi to freak out, my sound system that trashed the house, and then my genius idea to act all nonchalant about it when she was clearly trying to hide how upset she was. Honestly, I wasn't very upset about the house, I'm hardly materialistic and I don't need some generic kitchen unit and comfy chair set to be happy, those things are trivial and replaceable.
What upset me most was Tavi's reaction. I know Tavi, somewhat at least, and I know that she likes a semblance of order in her life, always has. I also know that she is more sensitive than she lets on, then again who isn't? I mean, it was only a couple of months ago I saw Rainbow Dash frantically zipping around, looking completely distraught, shouting after her pet, and she puts on such a fearless countenance usually. So it is with Tavi, except she wouldn't let it slip that easily. That's why this hurts me, she's probably aching on the inside, possibly blaming herself for the damage to our house. I can't have that, I need to absolve her of any blame, even if it makes life a little more difficult for me. Paying for this is no issue anyway, I spend money on a select few luxuries and I'm sure I won't miss it much when it's gone.
By this time, Vinyl had arrived at the bank, where she queued, and after standing in line for about ten minutes, was directed to a seat in a small waiting room. Ponyville's branch of Royal Neightionwide was significantly smaller than that in Canterlot, much to Vinyl's dislike. She did not like to be boxed in.
It was not claustrophobia, as such. Rather, it was the perverse silence that often filled the air in small empty places, a disquieting atmosphere that instantly made her feel uncomfortable and apprehensive. The bank's waiting room was such a place. With wall paneling separating her and the chairs surrounding her from the tellers around the corner, the small room was permeated by foreboding silence, mitigated by the occasional cough.
Vinyl jittered in her seat, slowly shaking her right hind leg against the floor as she sat to attention, making sure not to slump back or let herself be overly comfortable in any way. As far as she was concerned, as long as she was ready to leave at any time, she could not end up being trapped permanently. This is silly. I'm not going to die in here, except maybe of boredom. So why am I so unsettled here? You're always unsettled in these places.
She sighed a short breath and adjusted her headphones, dreading the upcoming transition. I'm being completely irrational, I'm fine and I know it. Would Tavi be so uncomfortable in a place like this? Hell no. She'd carry that perfect air of confidence as she always does, none of this would faze her, nor should it me. I really wanna leave. Upon being called over by an assistant, Vinyl shot up, then realising how eager she must have looked, toned down the briskness of her movement, putting on a calmer demeanor and trotting after the assistant without a word, even faced.
When she approached the teller; a middle aged earth pony with a sleek green coat and a greying mane, she knew this would go one of two ways. She was either the fast, courteous and efficient type, and they would be done in a matter of minutes, or she was a facetious, annoying little jobsworth, who enjoyed making life difficult for the customer. There was no in-between with bank ponies, in her experience.
As she approached, and the teller asked for her name in what Vinyl could only perceive as a disinterested tone, she internally sighed. Vinyl was quite famous, and Ponyville was a small town, could she not be recognised by face alone here? Nonetheless she complied. "Vinyl Scratch, and hello to you too." she forced a smile as she spoke, trying to make the experience slightly more pleasant.
The teller looked her up and down before responding. "And you bank here, yes?"
What kind of a question is that? No, I've just spent over 20 minutes queuing and waiting for the only bank in town, and I don't bank here, of course. Sense was made on this day. Lost in her aggravation she almost didn't notice the teller eyeing her with impatience, and barely realised that over 5 seconds had passed since she was asked. Vinyl forcibly undid the knit formed in her brow and responded, barely pacified by the notion that this would be over soon. "Yes, that I do. I've come to request a statement for the last month, as well as a withdrawal."
"Very well, account number and sort code?" Vinyl stopped to ponder her question, it always took her a second to remember, but she didn't like to carry around personal details if she could help it and preferred to memorise things. "Miss Scratch? I asked your account number and sort code."
"Sorry, just trying to remember." I'm not sorry. "Got it. Account number is 11584098."
"And the sort code?"
"98-02-24"
"Wonderful, and the requested amount for withdrawal?"
Vinyl had been thinking this number through earlier in the morning, but had not reached a definitive answer. However, she wasn't going to appear unsure in front of the rude mare if she could help it. "20,000 bits, please." Probably won't need that much.
The teller looked at her in slight frustration before smiling once again. "That is quite the large withdrawal, Miss Scratch. We will have to go through some identity checks and security questions, I'm sure you understand."
Vinyl tried not to make the annoyance too plain on her face, her tail slowly swishing side to side as she processed the information. Oh, so no security checks unless I'm drawing out a lot of money? She's probably jealous that I'm making enough to comfortably withdraw twenty grand.
"Well, I have no forms of identification on me, but I'm sure the bank have a copy of my signature and horn ley line sign?" Signatures were hard to forge, ley line signs were unique to a unicorn and impossible to replicate.
The teller replied with impertinence. "Well, it is unorthodox to appear without identification, I'm honestly not sure if anything can be done."
This is bullshit, I want to leave. Vinyl suppressed a slight growl in her next response. "Ley line signs are impossible to copy, surely you know that can prove my identity?"
The teller put on an apologetic sigh. "Unfortunately, I am not a unicorn, so I do not know these things. My manager is also an earth pony, so he would not be able to verify the truth of your words any better than I could. Perhaps this is a more common means of verification in Canterlot, but I wouldn't know."
"Surely you still serve unicorns here though?" Vinyl asked. "How do they get their verification approved?"
The teller grinned maliciously. "Well, most of them think to bring valid ID's with them. You know, I'd love to be a unicorn, just walk around with my horn stamp and act as if the rules don't apply to me, does it make you feel important? It doesn't matter, all that matters is we are not going to cater specifically to you because you are a unicorn and I am not, I'm afraid."
Officious little bitch. Vinyl could quell the pent up anger and frustration at the terrible service no longer. Coupled with her recent feelings of guilt, and further reinforced by her strong desire to leave, she effectively removed the filter between her brain and her mouth, and said exactly what she had wanted to from the start.
"Look, I'm in a bit of a bind here, okay? This isn't just a simple matter of 'Oh I'll just go get my license from home and come back', I don't have one anymore. Now if you don't let me answer the security questions and retrieve my money, I suppose I'll have to go to Canterlot to get it. And guess what? There are plenty more banks in Canterlot than there are in Ponyville! Ones that likely have a much friendlier and comprehensive service, and won't mess me around. Now, I've dealt with your offhand behaviour up until now, because I'm a decent pony, but I will not be condescended to, you understand? So you can either fix this little attitude problem you have and stop trying to exercise that slither of power over me, or not only will I complain, making sure to cite the racial discrimination act for your blatant bad attitude towards unicorns, but I will walk. I'm sure there are plenty of other banks around that would be glad to receive my custom, considering the amount of money I often make. Are we clear?"
Defeated wasn't the proper word to describe the look on the teller's face. Neither was shocked, or indignant, or even flabbergasted. The teller eyed Vinyl once more, looking her up and down, with a look Vinyl suspected she reserved for few customers: a look of respect, though plainly irritated. "Shall we proceed with your security questions miss?" Vinyl forced stoicism upon herself, despite two warring parts of her mind telling her not to, one enraged and the other proclaiming sweet victory.
She nodded, and was asked her first question, the name of her first pet. "Mandy." She lied. Vinyl had never owned a pet, but making up the answers to her security questions and memorising them accomplished two things. First, as long as she didn't lie about things that were verifiable, such as past addresses, the bank wouldn't know too much about her. Second, it would make her much harder to rob.
"Favourite author?"
"Blunt Pencil." She had never read any of his works. As it was for a few more questions, all with their own premeditated lies in response. Once this process was over, and she had signed the documents pertaining to her acquisition of a statement as well as her withdrawal, her signature was appraised, and her money was counted out.
She was given 2,500 bits in cash, and 17,500 in Equestrian bearer bonds, worth 500 bits each. These were legal tender in many large companies and often used to trade when physical bits were not practical due to their weight and the space they took up. The bearer bond represented the owner's entitlement to the specified amount of bits, when requested at a bank or building society. However they were easier to forge than bits, so were often accepted with skepticism or not atall by smaller companies, not wanting to lose out on coin due to fraudulent trading.
Vinyl walked out of the bank slightly weighed down by the bit bag that hung off her midriff, and briefly pondered what carrying all 20,000 bits would have been like. She dismissed the idea as she stepped outside, breathing her first breath of open air, freedom and tranquility in close to an hour, and her trademark smile instantly reappeared, happy as she was with having the ordeal over with. She set off, ready to tell Tavi that there was nothing to worry about, she would fix everything. But first, something fizzy. She set off down the road arguing a familiar argument with herself, smiling all the way. Dr. Pony or Colta-Cola?