Back in the late Nineties I worked at a rival bank's data processing office. I'd investigate problems with billions of dollars in electronic funds transfers (EFTs, which were far more primitive than you'd expect) and the only cash I saw was the fiver I gave the lunch lady. Marine Midland Bank and its parent Midland Bank in the UK had just been swallowed by the Hongkong Shanghai Banking Company, the parent's former child. Understand that the Midland Bank was one of the major banks of the UK, a fortress in The City. It was named for the Catholic canal-builders and tradesmen that could not get accounts in the Protestant banks. So here I was, dealing with million-dollar transfers back and forth from or to them or Citibank all day. Naturally I'd taken to calling them the Hot Steamy Backdoor Company. Eventually I got others in the place to say it as well. /vaguely relevant //Oh, and chop up all the big ass banks. Rarrrrr. Growl. Credit unions rule!
I'd be interested to hear an elaboration, if you've got something to tell.
About the handle or about my data clerk job? Actually, there is a tale about the former. Before I worked at the bank, I worked on straight commission at a department store. I sold audio equipment. The commissions sucked, but it was my first time not being in school since the age of 3. I learned a lot about what doesn't matter. We used to get bored. So we'd dial semi-random 800 gateway numbers and transfer them to uptight departments. These were the teaser lines with a recording that asked you to call a 900 number, usually for phone sex. One day we thought up "800-MAN-HOLE" and sure enough we got a doozy: "Hey stud, what's up? Huh-huh, I can guess what's up. If you want to meet me and my friends for some hot backdoor action, dial 1-900..." We didn't care about anything else in that message. We may have all had bachelor degrees, but we were 22-year-olds at a McJob. This became a phrase for us. My best friend from high school, who got me the job, would get a thoughtful look in his eyes and ask almost professionally: "Which do you prefer: hot backdoor action, or deep anal penetration?" Another coworker was originally from Orange County in southern California. He had placed some HB stickers on things, referring to the beloved but tough town of Huntington Beach. My aforementioned other coworker would then add the letter "A" after HB, referring to HBA (hot backdoor action). Fast forward a year or so. I'm working at the bank. I see "HSBC" on a lot of transactions. I also see it on branches of what used to be Marine Midland Bank. They used to have a very 1970s-looking logo: an angular line drawing of a three-masted ship on thew water, circumscribed by a gear. Trade and manufacturing are obvious stuff, much like the motto for the city of Paris referring to when it was merely an island. Suddenly the name was... dumb and annoying. China is conquering the world and eating its former oppressors. Great. When can I have a non-humiliating job and get out of my home town?