It was the final day of the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, and the snow had begun to settle—both outside and inside the lavish conference halls. The scent of expensive coffee filled the air, as leaders, CEOs, and philanthropists gathered in their best attempt at casual sophistication.

But something was off. The usual banter about global economics, climate change, and wealth redistribution had been replaced by one scandalous phrase: “debanking.”

And it all started with that tweet.

Donald Trump had sent out a message early in the morning, which—at this point—was almost routine. But this one was different.

“Bank of America dropped conservatives as clients! They caved to the liberal elite! Sad!” the tweet read. A few emojis, of course, for emphasis.

Within moments, the tech moguls in Davos were abuzz. A banker from Goldman Sachs did a double-take, spilling his oat milk latte on his pristine white shirt. A billionaire philanthropist nearly choked on his croissant. Even a hedge fund manager who rarely blinked seemed momentarily startled.

"Did Trump just call out a bank?" one of the executives whispered, as if the words themselves were dangerous.

“Yup,” another muttered, eyes wide. “And he called them... ‘liberal elites’? I mean... that's a big diss.”

The world’s power brokers convened in huddles, muttering about how the next tweet could send markets spiraling. No one was sure if Trump had just declared war on the entire banking system or if this was merely a warm-up for his next headline.

Meanwhile, the CEO of Bank of America, Janet Montgomery, was trying to get through a press interview without laughing. She’d just finished hearing about the tweet when a reporter asked her about the accusation.

“Trump says you dropped conservatives as clients,” the reporter prodded.

Montgomery smiled thinly. "Well, if by 'dropped' you mean... we politely suggested they explore other financial institutions, then sure, we did that. But we're a business, not a political organization. We don't really play that game."

The reporter blinked, clearly taken aback by the casualness of it all. "So... you're saying you're not a part of the liberal elite conspiracy?"

Janet's lips twitched. "No, we just prefer clients who, you know... pay their bills on time.”

Meanwhile, a few floors above in a penthouse suite overlooking the Swiss Alps, a group of tech entrepreneurs laughed heartily.

“Can you imagine Trump as a customer at Bank of America?” one of them snickered. “I bet he wouldn’t even know what a wire transfer is. He’d just ask for a loan with a ‘huge’ interest rate and expect it to be approved by the next morning.”

“I mean, could you imagine the phone call?” another one chimed in. “‘Yes, Bank of America, I’ll take a loan. And by the way, can I get a ‘conservative’ discount?’”

They all erupted in laughter. But then, a CEO who had been unusually quiet in the corner leaned forward.

“I wonder,” he said, half-joking, “if Trump is just mad because he couldn’t get an overdraft fee waived.”

A few chuckles, then a pause.

“Well,” the first entrepreneur said, “at least he’s keeping things interesting. Imagine if we had to sit here all week talking about supply chains again."

The laughter died down as they all realized: Trump’s tweet had brought a bit of drama to the otherwise staid halls of Davos.

In the end, the real lesson wasn’t about debanking or political divides—it was that no matter how many billions you have or how many deals you close, nothing spices up Davos like a good old-fashioned Twitter diss.

And as the snow continued to fall, the executives went back to discussing next year’s earnings projections—well, mostly. A few of them, however, were still chuckling over the fact that someone had just been debanked by the president himself.