Sometimes I get into this rut where I play the “why are some
of my life decisions the worst” game. It’s a pretty good time. Perhaps you’re familiar
with it.
I'm not trying to brag or anything but I was a top player throughout my entire graduate school career, having spent approximately 98.2% of graduate school kvetching about my decision to go to graduate school.
Furrowing my brows endlessly over dreamy pre-grad days of work being over when I left the building at five o'clock.
Pining over how wonderful it was to go on vacation and then come back NOT to a pile of work, because work didn't pile up when I left my bank teller job, and neither did e-mails. I REPEAT: THERE ARE NO UNANSWERED EMAILS WHEN YOU COME BACK TO YOUR BANK TELLER JOB.
Pining over how wonderful it was to go on vacation and then come back NOT to a pile of work, because work didn't pile up when I left my bank teller job, and neither did e-mails. I REPEAT: THERE ARE NO UNANSWERED EMAILS WHEN YOU COME BACK TO YOUR BANK TELLER JOB.
As I remember, it was pure, unadulterated bliss.
But that's how the “why are some
of my life decisions the worst” game works. Listen up, people: Nostalgia = PUBLIC ENEMY #1.
It's good to take a step back when kvetching to remember that you were probably kvetching throughout previous life decisions. too, as we humans are wont to do. Upon reading further you will witness the kvetches (is that a word? It is now) of this previously blissful life I've sketched out above.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Being a bank teller = extreme boredom on Thursday afternoons when no one came to the bank and the clock neveeeerrrrr reached 5 and even though there is literally nothing to do, you are NOT allowed to leave.
It also = every teller except yourself calling in sick on the first Friday of the month, a day also known to
every boomer on the planet as lets-go-to-the-MF-BANK day.
This actually happened once. Fastest but most hungry day of my life.
This actually happened once. Fastest but most hungry day of my life.
But the overarching lesson of time served as a bank teller = customer
service is some bullshit.
May the metaphysical hand of god strike me down every single time I neglect to address this fact when barreling down the rabbit hole of nostalgia.
In support of this claim, I offer you the following:
May the metaphysical hand of god strike me down every single time I neglect to address this fact when barreling down the rabbit hole of nostalgia.
In support of this claim, I offer you the following:
1.
The guy who actually filed a lawsuit against the
bank branch I was working in during undergrad, in which he legitimately
requested that an exorcism be performed within our building. This of course did
not go far within the legal workings of Bonneville County, but losing his
exorcism bid did not deter him from
continuing to bank with us. He simply chose to do his business solely through
the drive-through after that, and staunchly refused to look at or speak to us
the entire time.
a.
Wait, no, he did look at me once. I was keying
in his deposit when he turned his head slowly toward the window. Once it had swiveled
enough to appropriately allow his beady eyes to rest upon me, he proceeded to
snort like a pig into the microphone until I pushed the drawer back out with
his receipt. Charming.
2.
The guy who repeatedly scream-asked me if I
enjoyed stealing money from old people after he discovered that $50 from his
mothers account had been turned over to the state like a year previously, after
five years of account inactivity.
a.
Why yes, sir, it’s one of my most treasured past
times. Anything else I can do for you today?
3.
The woman who promptly strode to my manager’s
office to complain that I was “loudly bragging about my drunken behavior” after
she overheard me telling a fellow co-worker that I had tried a blue tarantula
margarita the previous Saturday.
a.
I was soundly reprimanded for this.
4.
The incredibly agitated man demanding to know
why his account was in the negative, but who did not know his account number
and stoutly refused to give me any identifying information so that I could locate said account, because he was convinced I would then try to steal his identity.
a. It appeared to be lost on him that if I was in the
identity-stealin’ mood, I would be much more inclined to steal the identity of someone
with positive account balances. #justsayin
5.
The woman who came barreling up to my window in
extreme panic because the ATM had refused to give her any money. Upon looking
up her account I was able to inform her that the ATM could not dispense money
from an account that was approximately ten thousand dollars in the negative. The outrageous state of her account was the result of a previously deposited $9000 being removed due to the fact that it was someone else’s $9000 tax refund.
a.
Rather than questioning her suddenly inflated
balance, it appeared she had instead made a series of large cash withdrawals
before the mistake was discovered, thus leaving a devastatingly negative
balance when the deposit was reversed.
b.
As I began to quietly explain this to her she simply
backed away from my window while screaming hysterically, “I AM NOT A THIEF GODDAMMIT”, as an
entire lobby of people stared at me like I was kicking a dog.
6.
The woman who lectured me sharply for several
minutes on the importance of maintaining a professional appearance at work, while several people waited in line behind her, because
she did not like what I was wearing.
a.
I was
wearing the company-approved t-shirt all employees were given to wear on
Fridays.
7.
The guy I knew from high school who was mad at me about something and took his revenge by telling my manager that I had given all of his account information to his
ex-girlfriend.
a.
The best part about this is that I met his ex-girlfriend
a total of one time when she was my cashier at Target. I probably
told her I thought he was an idiot, but trust me, girl did not need confirmation from me that all of his assets were equally unimpressive.
8.
The savage children in the drive-through savagely
demanding tootsie rolls. Some of them would just stare at me with the intensity
of an axe murderer throughout the entire transaction. This was unnerving, but
since I am also given to staring like that at people who have food that I want,
I was generally tolerant. However, those screaming ones with the bulging eyes
that would sometimes actually hang their weird little bodies out of the car
windows were not getting tootsie rolls from yours truly. This was met with
great disapproval from the people who had birthed or otherwise parented those
weird little bodies, but I remained steadfast.
a.
I realize
I could think differently of this if I ever have a little weirdo of my own, but
we’ll just cross that weird little bridge if it’s ever built.
I love this. I love having a normal job that I can clock out from and with very little responsibility, but damn...customer service is a real doozy. The nice thing about working in tourism is that I pretty much never have to see the worst people ever again. It's many of my "co-workers" (I use quotes because they really don't work at all most of the time) that I could do without seeing every day.
ReplyDeleteomg, the co-workers!! I have one about those people too!!
Delete