A Bank Hold Up
Saturday. Raining. I’m at the bank. Drive-thru. As is typical, every line except the one I’m waiting in is moving steadily. I begin getting frustrated when two cars that had arrived after me made it through before I did.
Finally, I get to the front and take care of my business. As I reach out to replace the little canister that shoots back and forth, the slippery conditions get me and it falls from my grip to the ground. I open my door only slightly (because the canister shooter is so close)—glancing down, hoping the canister will be close enough where I can just snatch it from my seat. It’s no where to be seen. At this point the cars behind me are probably thinking the same ugly thoughts I was thinking in the first paragraph.
So I manage to squeeze out between my door and the canister shooter. I take a few steps over and look down. I STILL cannot see the canister. I kneel down and there it is—in the very middle of the lane. At this point (right on cue), the Bank-Teller-Barbie comes through the speaker.
“Can you get it?” she asks ever so cheerfully.
“Yes, I can get it!” I snapped back.
So, in all of my shame, I lay down on my stomach on the wet, oily pavement and crawl under my Buggy to retrieve the blasted canister. As I emerge and stand back up, I slam the canister into the shooter (I’m pretty upset at this point—mainly from embarrassment). Bank-Teller-Barbie comes back with a kind, “Thank you.” I don’t think I responded.
And I’m so mad and in a hurry that I get stuck as I climb back into the Buggy (at this point the people behind me had to at least chuckle). Someone will probably enjoy watching that tape. Grr. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
On the brighter side, at least I was making a deposit!















