Looking for money

My mother and I used to go for long walks, usually ending up at one of the strip malls that punctuated our southern California town. As we stood on the front porch ready to go, she’d lock the door, check it and recheck it before turning to me to share her time-honored parental advice:

Remember. Look for money.

Seriously. Mom’s thing was to look for money as we walked, I guess because there was never enough. And the funny thing is – we usually found it! Scattered coins in the sidewalk cracks, a dollar blowing in the breeze. Once we found two $5 bills, and it was as though we’d won the lottery.

Sometimes we’d celebrate with a bite to eat at the dime store lunch counter. Was it J.J. Newberry or Woolworth’s? I can’t remember, and they’re both gone now. Mom got Jello because it wasn’t fattening. Grilled cheese for me because it was cheap.

Money was in short supply at our house, and perhaps that is why I grew up obsessed with making sure I had enough. And with this mindset, it’s easy to believe there will never be enough. No sacrifice to great, no cushion to thick – more money always wins.

Some baby boomers are reluctant to retire, in part because they haven’t saved enough and in part because they can’t give it up. Boomers say it’s the work they can’t give up, and I get that, because what we do for a living is part of our identity. But I also wonder if it’s the need to make money and the habit of spending money we can’t quite quit.

Only in the last few years did I begin to reconsider my relationship with money. I had a nice nest egg from years of saving, and that helped. But as I closed in on the concept of retirement, it occurred to me I could feel more secure with that nest egg if I spent less. You don’t need as much stuff as you think.

It is scary when the regular paychecks stop. I’m not super-frugal, and I’m not a financial whiz. Preparing for retirement was more about changing my mindset … believing I could live differently and gain back what we used to call a life. Time to sleep late, read, write and cook from scratch. Meet with friends, volunteer, maybe a little side hustle just in case.

I still love my long walks, and now I have time for them. Sometimes I enjoy a mindless loop, and other times I like walking toward a destination. There’s a little strip mall at the bottom of the hill, and I often think about stopping for a bite to eat. For now, I just keep going, occasionally scanning the grass that lines the sidewalk, looking for money.

 

 

 

Finding a place to call home

After relocating more than 20 times in my career, we moved to the Bay Area for my last job. I’m from California and wanted to come back, but I turned it down twice. I was in my late 50s and most people my age are moving in the other direction. But I needed the job. My husband and I did the math, and we finally said whatever, we’ll buy a house we can never pay off in our lifetime and then move again when I ultimately retire.

I remember making the decision – cracking open a beer and taking that first cold draw. I suddenly heard my late mother’s voice, and she said, “It’s OK. You can come home.” I broke out in tears.

My husband and I bought a ridiculously expensive “starter” home south of San Jose, and I rode the bus to Silicon Valley and back every day. It could have been worse, but I do think the commute hastened my retirement. It was 2.5 hours a day on the bus, and I wanted more mellow in my life.

Oh, but we were hooked on California … as in not leaving again. I created a spreadsheet, and we started to search for a less expensive part of California. It does exist. We chose a community in the foothills of the Sierra mountains. The realtor assumed we would want new construction. Perhaps thinking the house wouldn’t have time to fall apart before we did. However, we didn’t like new construction neighborhoods. We liked big trees and old camellias.

Still, new construction was tempting. They were staged to perfection and super glamorous, but the problem is we aren’t. Like us, our furniture is old and well-traveled with stories to tell. I just couldn’t see our weathered stuff in these shiny digs.

We ended up purchasing an 18-year-old house in an established neighborhood with mostly original owners. Kids walk to the nearby schools, and we can hear the band practice at night. The tile floor has some chips. Wood cabinets are worn, and there are dings on the walls and around the baseboards. Our furniture looks great, and the cat is happy.

Dale and I were tidying up this morning, and I said, “You know what else I love about this place? It looks like we’ve been here 20 years and just stayed after the kids left. As though we’ve been here all along.”

After a lifetime on the move, maybe this is what home feels like.

Mastectomy without reconstruction is a choice

If you know me, it came as no surprise I would have a mastectomy without reconstruction. Oh, there’s Donna, that independent cuss. You would also know my favorite TV show is Chopped, hence the swag. The hat was a gift when I was on medical leave, and at the time, I didn’t think anything about it. In hindsight, it’s pretty funny, and wearing the hat today was just another twisted coincidence.

Getting chopped on the Food Network show or in real life is no fun. For those who face breast cancer treatment or may someday wrestle with this decision, I wanted to share my reasons for taking this path and how I have fared without breasts. It’s called going flat. It’s not for everyone, but it’s a viable option for many, including BRCA-positives who are considering prophylactic mastectomy to reduce risk.

First of all, I had some history. In 1999, I was diagnosed with advanced stage ovarian cancer. Two surgeries took a toll, and I had hoped to spend the rest of my life anywhere but in the operating room. Then in 2015, I was diagnosed with non-invasive breast cancer. Typical treatment for my diagnosis is lumpectomy and radiation, however, I tested positive for the BRCA1 mutation.

The doctor said with my history of ovarian cancer and now knowing I was BRCA-positive, we would have to be aggressive, since the cancer was more likely to come back and not play nice next time around. My treatment would be bilateral mastectomy.

I can’t remember how it occurred to me I might not need breasts, but here’s the executive summary:

  • My overriding thought was to spend as little time as possible being down for the count.
  • No reconstruction translated to less time in the hospital.
  • I saw implants as something alien that wouldn’t feel like real breasts anyway.
  • Would implants interfere with my golf swing?
  • Implants don’t last forever, so that’s another hospital visit down the road.
  • I didn’t like the image of my future 70-something body with 30-something breasts.

My husband and I discussed it. He was shocked but then got used to the idea and said he would support whatever I decided. He has always been a leg man, anyway. I found inspiring pictures of “Flat & Fabulous” women on the Internet. I saw beautiful chest tattoos and that little rebel in me said, hell, yeah, so I put that idea on the back burner for future consideration.

I’ve heard some doctors argue with a patient who doesn’t want reconstruction. They assume you will regret it, but my doctor had no concerns. He knew I already survived ovarian cancer against all odds, and he knew I wasn’t there to fool around. I said make me look like a 10-year-old boy – I don’t want a bunch of skin leftover in case I change my mind. He said OK.

Some women have parties to say farewell to their breasts, complete with boobie party favors and whatnot. But I was never one to celebrate breast-focused culture and loathed references to ta-tas or girls. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t such a big deal for me. I got the sleek look I was going for, and I’ve never looked back. I didn’t bother to get fitted for a prosthesis.

Aside from the lingering issues of post-mastectomy pain, I’m comfortable where I ended up. It’s fabulous not to wear bras or worry about buying bras, which is right up there with root canals. Clothes and swimsuits can be challenging but not a deal breaker. I favor close-fitting tops that don’t attempt to hide my flatness.

I’ve had a few looks, but honestly, people are self-absorbed and don’t notice. A woman on the golf course asked me if I was a breast cancer survivor because she noticed I was flat. That’s it. No one has said anything awful to me – though I’ve heard some people are horrified by breastlessness and angry with those of us who dare to appear in public. I hang with a different crowd.

The tattoo idea is still out there, but I’m not sure I need it. When I look in the mirror, I’m a scarred up mess, but I’m alive and already highly decorated.

A low-maintenance undo hairdo for retirement

Have you thought about what your hair might look like as you get older?

My hair started planning for retirement before I did. I stopped dying it in 2008, partly because I didn’t want to mess with chemicals anymore and partly because I didn’t want to waste time and money at the salon. I ended up liking my natural color better than the patented brown dye job with blonde highlights.

First I went gray, then I went short and then I went long. I always had bangs because they were comforting – I didn’t like seeing my aging face exposed. But bangs require trims, which is just one more thing. I also wear hats, and I find bangs and hats don’t mix well. So, I grew out my bangs, made peace with my face and ended up with a long bob.

This is what I call retirement hair. No dye and only needs a haircut every couple of months. It’s the low-maintenance money-saving undo hairdo. I have fine fairy hair. Is it ideal? No. I’ve learned to embrace my hair’s natural qualities and just let it do what it wants. No blow dryer, no curling iron, no other products.

My hair is dry. I shampoo and condition in the evenings about twice a week. I might have retired earlier if I hadn’t spent so much money on useless hair products. I finally settled on Klorane, which I buy at Ulta. Klorane products don’t have silicones, so it took a few weeks for my hair to adjust, but now I really like how it looks and feels. Sometimes there’s a little frizz – so what.

I go to bed with it damp, and whatever I wake up with, is whatever I wake up with. The picture above is second-day hair. If for some reason I don’t like the way it looks down, I put it in my trusty man bun – otherwise known as a messy bun. That’s it!

I’m currently using the Klorane shampoo and conditioner with mango. Every couple of weeks, I use the whitening shampoo with Centaury, which I have found to be much better than any of the purple shampoos I’ve used in the past. And it smells divine.

How do you want your hair to evolve as you get older? I know there are men reading this and thinking, I’d just like to have hair. There are women thinking that, too! We’ve been torturing our heads for years, and chances are, these precious follicles could use a break in retirement. Learn to love what you have (or don’t have) and go enjoy the rest of your life!

 

 

Penetrex to help an aging body stay active

Choosing to retire was a lifestyle decision. I had a great job, but it sucked up all my time, and I didn’t want to live that way anymore. Is it me, or is work overrated?

I don’t have a full-time job anymore, but I’m like just about everyone else working or retired. Getting older and doing what I can to stack the deck for a long, healthy and happy life.

My guiding principles are move more, eat well, look good, stay healthy, keep learning, use cannabis wisely and enjoy simple pleasures.

That last one … pain. Pain is a thief that will rob you of joy and diminish your mobility, which can have disastrous effects on your overall health. I’ve been writing about my use of cannabis to deal with post-mastectomy pain and other afflictions, and I also wanted to share my experience with a product anyone can use.

Penetrex is a topical cream you can buy on Amazon or at Walmart that treats anything resulting from inflammation of muscles, nerves, ligaments and tendons. The active ingredient is an herb called Arnica.

While I do use cannabis products to ease inflammation in my body, so far I haven’t tried cannabis topicals to target specific areas. However, I use Penetrex in multiple ways.

  • Knees. I injured mine in a sports accident almost eight years ago. They hurt and swell for no good reason. Using Penetrex regularly keeps me walking about five miles a day pretty much pain-free.
  • Sciatica. The MRI says I have bulging discs and spinal stenosis. My principal symptom is sciatica. I put Penetrex on the spot where it hurts, as well as up and down my spine, because I figure that’s where the pain originates. I have not had a full-blown sciatica episode since I started using Penetrex nine months ago.
  • Breast cancer scars. The area around my armpits where they removed lymph nodes looks like the Grand Canyon – sometimes those scars just burn and sting. Penetrex makes it go away almost instantly.

My sister and I are famous for having weird medical issues. That’s why neither one of us has children – the gene pool stops here. She has a thing called Chilblains, which makes her toes itch, hurt and turn blue. She uses Penetrex as soon as an episode begins, and it’s gone before it starts. My husband uses it with great success on his shoulder, which he injured years ago playing racquetball.

Obviously, I’m a big fan of Penetrex. Just get me a bucket and a paint roller. The literature says the product treats inflammation, which encompasses a lot of ailments but certainly not all. Do you think it’s worth a try?

What to wear in retirement?

There are dozens of blogs about fashion and style for women over 50. This is not one of them. Some of the looks are inspiring, but when it’s all said and done, appearance is not my hobby.

Not that I want to look bad. But even if you fight the cosmetic effects of aging with surgery, injectables, hair dye and fashion-forward outfits, guess what? You are still getting old. It’s liberating to love life and accept how you look with a minimum of effort. I’m willing to try, just not that hard, and I don’t want my legacy to be she died wearing cute clothes.

That said, appearance haunts a lot of us as we age, and worrying about what to wear is hardwired into my brain. My mother used to say she would slit her wrists if she couldn’t buy a new blouse. We didn’t have much money, but we had fancy church outfits with matching hats and little purses. A special shorts set for our annual trip to Disneyland. How fun it was to shop for school dresses at Sears – three for $10.

Dressing well appealed to me in theory, but I didn’t find my sweet spot until late in my career. For me, it was all about keeping it simple. I put a fair amount of time into finding a few classic outfits for work, and then I was done! I didn’t go shopping again unless I needed a replacement.

Now that I’m retired, I usually wear something comfortable for puttering around the house and suitable for my afternoon walk. My equivalent of yoga pants. But there are occasions where I need something more, and I’ve been informed by a dear friend previously known as Stylish Young Coworker (SYC) that men’s jeans from Kohl’s aren’t my best option.

I honestly appreciate experts weighing in because it saves me the work. A reader shared an endorsement for Levi’s boyfriend jeans … ordered them from Amazon but didn’t like the way they fit. I texted a picture of me wearing them to another special person in my life we shall call Bossy Fashion Friend (BFF).

Me: these are boyfriend jeans. aren’t they supposed to be baggy?

BFF: I like the more fitted bf jean. Not a fan of the loose. Because if you go big, you’ll get that sag that’s not flattering.

Me: these are the men’s jeans i like

BFF: Lol. They are too loose on you! There should be a dong in the crotch of those.

Me: hahahaha

BFF: Keep the bf ones. Super cute and flattering.

Then she started talking slouchy tees and cardis, and my eyes glazed over. I seriously do not want to spend much time thinking about clothes. Just need a couple of minimalist go-to retirement outfits so I can forget about it and go on with life.

BFF: Your work wardrobe was on point. Now you need casual clothes.

Me: yes, i usually wear track pants. today is the first day in a week i put on real clothes.

Since I was already dressed, why not head over to Kohl’s and check out the women’s department? I tried on Levi’s slimming skinny jeans, and I liked them! I texted BFF a picture from the dressing room.

Me: what think?

BFF: YES! So cute! Those jeans are fab.

Me: ok. i’m buying.

Since I was on a roll, I went back to the men’s department. It’s like a magnet. Secret deals only men know about. I had to twist strangely to read the label on the jeans I was wearing, but I saw they were Levi’s 505s.

Why, what luck! There they are! I selected a size smaller than I currently wear out of respect for dreaded butt sag, and they fit. Men’s jeans have nice deep pockets. I guess they shorten the pockets on women’s jeans to reduce bulk, because bulk is the devil’s work.

In the end, I left Kohl’s with skinny jeans, a light denim shirt, men’s jeans and another pair of track pants. I got home and tried them all on again, because that is what I do. I also wanted to see how the skinny jeans paired with Birkenstocks, because I’m all about ugly shoes.

Me: with birkies??

BFF: Yes, love that!! And roll up your sleeves a bit, too.

Dang, she is bossy. But back to my original question. What to wear in retirement? Whatever you want!

A well-stocked pantry includes cannabis edibles for sleep

My entry-level forays into the modern maze of marijuana led me to products for managing pain after my second bout of cancer. The first cancer – ovarian – almost killed me. But the second – breast – resulted in long-term post-mastectomy pain.

Once I got pain under control, I was like, gee, what else might cannabis do? As I’ve aged, I don’t sleep all that well. I know, take a number. Right? I usually fall asleep quickly, but wake up and ruminate about everything imaginable. Sometimes I have to get up and make a list, just so I can “let it go.”

Enter our friend, cannabis. Here’s what I learned:

  • There are three types of cannabis – Indica, Sativa and Hybrid. Indica promotes relaxation and sleep, while Sativa is more uplifting. Hybrids are somewhere in the middle.
  • THC is the psychoactive component of cannabis, and THC can help you go to sleep.
  • CBN is the non-psychoactive component of cannabis, and CBN can help you stay asleep.
  • THC and CBN work better together.
  • Herbals such as chamomile and lavender complement cannabis for enhancing sleep.
  • If you smoke or vape cannabis for sleep, you’ll get faster results.
  • If you ingest it, the process is slower, but you’ll probably stay asleep longer.

As I see it, edibles are the way to go. I’m a novice at all this, so I wanted to keep it simple. I had success with Kikoko Sympa-Tea tea for pain, so I went back to the well and purchased Tranquili-Tea, which has 5mg of CBN, 3mg of THC and lots of delicious complementary herbs. This product is unlikely to get you high.

Cannabis for sleep was revolutionary. For me, it’s the best night’s sleep ever. Even if I have to get up to pee, which is a given, I can go right back to sleep and wake up in the morning feeling refreshed. I don’t use it every night, mainly because I try to stretch out my supply, but I do enjoy a cup several nights a week. Sound sleep cannot be underestimated, and I’m hopeful good ZZZs will contribute to my strategy for living a long, healthy and happy life.

Here’s my routine: I make the tea and take it with me to bed. I read for awhile, and then I start to feel sleepy, I drink the tea. By this time, the tea isn’t hot anymore, but that doesn’t matter. It’s right there, and I don’t have to disrupt my rest pattern. I’ll read a little bit more and then zonk.

Kikoko is available in California. If you live where medical or recreational cannabis is legal, I encourage you to visit a dispensary and see what they stock that might produce the same effects. There is a lot of competition in this category! Hopefully, now you know what to look for. Of course, I’ll continue to seek out new products to review.

Please be especially careful with edibles. This is medicine. Make sure you know the potency of the product you choose. If you are unaccustomed to using cannabis, it’s easy to take too much. I’m a lightweight and find that even 10mg is too strong. I mean, nothing horrible happens if you overdo it, but you won’t like the way you feel. Start low and go slow!

As always, even if you are not a cannabis user, I encourage you to share this information and have discussions with older adults in your life who may find relief in medical marijuana.

Cooking at home is a retirement skill

I had been planning retirement for several years and to be sure I wasn’t just a crazy kid with a dream, I created a spreadsheet detailing our income through age 95. Not sure what happens after that.

But I am a journalism major, so I needed someone qualified to check my math. We met with a financial planner, and I showed him the spreadsheet. He validated my numbers and asked about money for travel and dining out because certainly we’d be doing a lot of both in retirement.

I’m not opposed to travel or eating in restaurants, but that’s somebody else’s dream. My husband, Dale, and I traveled extensively for work and pleasure when we were younger, and we don’t have a big travel jones. As far as dining out is concerned, we mostly cook at home.

While cooking at home saves money, it’s more about eating well, especially as we age. Dale and I are no saints when it comes to so-called clean eating. Our approach is most things in moderation. Even decadent treats like chimichangas (do you hear that, chimis? I love you, man) are better for you and better tasting if you make them at home, with homemade refried beans, homemade salsa, etc.

One of the many things I love about retirement is having more time to participate in the kitchen. Dale is a fantastic home chef, and because he retired 10 years before I did, he pretty much took care of dinner. Now we are sharing, and although I was worried I might be encroaching on his turf, our kitchen adventures together have turned out great. And I’ll just say it. I like me some control.

Our dietary goal is to cook and enjoy delicious food, keep off excess weight and manage cholesterol.

Meals include lots of Mediterranean-type dishes noted in aging badass bible, The Blue Zones, but we love a wide variety of food purely for the sensory pleasure and refuse to demonize it. That said, there are a few things we just don’t do. No sodas, diet or otherwise. We avoid packaged food, fast food, fake anything, diet anything. I’m also a huge fan of Michael Pollan, if you need inspiration for cooking and eating well.

In my view, learning to cook and appreciate quality food is a retirement must. Start before you retire! You really don’t want to go through old age in fear of food. There’s already plenty to be afraid of.

 

Is DIY cannabis tincture for you?

I had no plans to try marijuana when I retired at age 62. Although I have a friend who uses it, I thought pot made him lazy. I was experiencing post-mastectomy pain and decided to get a medical marijuana card and purchase some cannabis-infused tea. The tea worked fabulously, and I started using cannabis in a sensible and mindful way on a regular basis.

Cannabis did NOT make me less productive – it turns out my friend was just lazy to begin with.

The first product I tried was Kikoko Sympa-Tea. I reviewed it here. Kikoko is a simple and delicious way to enjoy the benefits of cannabis, especially if you are new to marijuana. Still, you don’t always want tea, and I wondered if there were less expensive ways to get roughly the same effect.

Tincture.

For background, you can read my post introducing tincture, which is usually an alcohol-based extract. Most people put it under the tongue for immediate effect or in a beverage for slower onset. If you only use a little, you’re not going to feel much onset, and that’s the idea. Just a pleasant feeling that for me, eases pain and inflammation, quiets anxiety and lifts my mood.

Truth: I didn’t think I was depressed … maybe sort of bummed for no good reason. Although I felt good, I used to wonder what would make me crazy happy. It turns out small daily doses of cannabis washes away the negativity and leaves me feeling exceedingly happy for no good reason.

I learned that true happiness is a state of mind and not about what you have, where you travel or what you achieve. Some people come by inner happiness naturally, but those of us with baggage might need something like cannabis to unclutter our complex emotions and reveal the joy that lies within.

Most dispensaries sell tincture. A typical ½ ounce bottle runs about $45. My suggestion is to buy some and see how it works before purchasing a larger quantity of pot to make your own tincture at home.

An ounce of weed can run $350, but I did the math, and my DIY tincture is $1.71 per dose as opposed to dispensary tincture, which rolls in at $7.50 per dose.

I like to putter in the kitchen, but to make tincture, you are dealing with alcohol and open flame, and my retirement plans do not include burning down the house. I purchased a Magical Butter machine, which makes all this simple. It’s now selling for about $175 (look for online discount coupon codes). I did not include this one-time cost in my financial analysis. I also did not include the cost of the bottles, which were $10.99.

The hardest part was figuring out which strain of marijuana to use. I already had CBD Shark, which according to Leafly, “Offers an equal ratio of THC and CBD, a cannabinoid combination that helps patients treat an array of symptoms like pain, anxiety and inflammation without the overly intoxicating effects induced by many high-THC strains.” I bought more CBD Shark.

The recipe is spelled out in the Magical Butter owner’s manual, so I’ll just give you a general idea of what happens in case you want to try it or run screaming from the room.

First, you cook whole buds in the oven for a bit. I used a Corning casserole dish with a glass cover, and there were no odors in the house. The reasons for cooking it are complicated. It’s called decarboxylation, and I don’t really get it. I just do what I’m told. Then you add the buds and Everclear grain alcohol to the machine. There will be Everclear left over, so save it for next time or take it with you to the toga party.

The owner’s manual has instructions for temperature and timing — basically you push two buttons and let it go. The machine lights up (in a festive way) and makes crazy noises, but you don’t have to watch it every second. I just let it do its thing on the kitchen counter for several hours while I did stuff around the house.

When it’s done, strain it through a filter that comes with the machine and put it in dark glass bottles. I bought these on Amazon. It’s best kept in the fridge.

That’s it! You can also use the machine to make infused oils and butters and even chocolate, but I haven’t tried those yet.

Start slowly, perhaps just three drops in a beverage of your choice. Add another drop the next day, and the next day until you find your sweet spot. My daily dose is one dropperful in a little lemon-ginger shooter.

While not everyone who reads this will jump up and buy a bottle of cannabis tincture, I hope you will keep an open mind about mindful use for older adults trying to live happy and healthy lives. Do you have a loved one who might benefit from cannabis?

 

Backpacking to the bank with my nest egg

Although I like the concept of looking stylish in retirement, I simplified my wardrobe in the last few years of working, and I just can’t get too excited about clothes anymore. I buy my jeans in the men’s department at Kohl’s, and I wear a lot of black because it’s easy. I’ve been told I look menacing, and I’m afraid that’s what happened at the bank this week.

Part of my retirement income came in a lump sum. Not ideal in terms of taxes, but I had no idea what I was doing when I made distribution decisions, and I’ve accepted the government gets a big chunk of it. As someone once said to me, if you’re paying more money in taxes, it means you have more money to begin with. Be grateful.

The check came Tuesday, and I wanted to deposit it right away. I’m an avid walker and hope to keep walking as long as my body parts hold up. I especially love to walk with a destination in mind and knew there was a trail from my house that would ultimately get me to the bank, so I put on my standard winter walk wear: black Sugoi track pants, black Champion polyester half-zip top from Target, black Tilley hat, a layer for warmth and a black backpack. Because what other color would it be?

It was a beautiful walk that took about 30 minutes. When I arrived at the bank in my hiking clothes with this hunk of nest egg in my backpack, there was a greeter who gave me the evil eye. She said, and I quote, “Did you have a transaction here?”

No, I’m just looking for a place to take a dump.

I didn’t say that because I am such a Girl Scout. I said, “Yes, I need to deposit a check.”

She points me to a counter, I fill out the slip and make my way to the teller, who also gives me the up and down. I said, “I get the sense ya’ll think I’m homeless, but I assure you I’m not.”

The teller said, “Oh, no, my mother always taught me. Never judge a book by its cover.”

That hurt. I mean, really, I thought I looked kind of cute.

Then she looked at the check and asked if we sold a house. I said, no, that’s my retirement. I did not add, “And it won’t be in your bank for very long.”

Later this week my husband got a $30 refund from overpaying his dental bill. He drove to the bank in his khaki cargo shorts and bright green North Face pullover, and apparently, he did NOT look menacing. Later I wanted to know if they asked him if he was there for a transaction. No, they just said, hi, welcome to Bank of America.