So I Go To The Bank...
...after work today. It's located in the grocery store. Let me preface this by saying I'm a pretty patient individaul. I realize lines form because of crowds. Now, there are two tellers, both women, and each one has a female customer.The one on the right is the teller I usually go to. The lady she's doing business with has a hairdo that looks like a sprout of broccoli. Their transaction being finished, the customer continues to ramble on about her hair. And on, and on, and on.
The customer on the left, transaction being finished, starts discussing her fake nails. She changes them everyday to another set. She has a set that looks like this, another that looks like that. She has them for holidays. By now, after ten minutes where I'm the first in line, there are now eight people behind me. Had these airheads been dealing with monies the size of the national debt I would have been alittle more understanding. This was just bullshit talk they were engaging in, with no regard for the people waiting. And to top it off, the customer on the left was wearing a skirt that had a split up the back that went to her waist. Her WAIST, goddammit. I was subjected to looking at her thong string slinking up her fat ass crack for ten minutes.
I finally got the attention of my usual teller by waving my check in the air and we got things rolling. The teller apologized for the delay by saying the customer was just lonely and was looking to talk. Fuck that. Call a 900 hotline. My Mom is 78 years old and she no more wants to talk to a teller than I want to talk to anyone. Get in there and get your business done. I have things to do. Like drink. I don't want people cutting into my drinking time. I wanted to unsheath my small knife I carry and attempt a bowel resection on both of them. And leave the blood for the two men that were soliciting money outside the store for kids with drug problems. Whom, by the way, never asked anyone for money because they were too busy jabbering with each other. Damn women and damn men that act like them.
The customer on the left, transaction being finished, starts discussing her fake nails. She changes them everyday to another set. She has a set that looks like this, another that looks like that. She has them for holidays. By now, after ten minutes where I'm the first in line, there are now eight people behind me. Had these airheads been dealing with monies the size of the national debt I would have been alittle more understanding. This was just bullshit talk they were engaging in, with no regard for the people waiting. And to top it off, the customer on the left was wearing a skirt that had a split up the back that went to her waist. Her WAIST, goddammit. I was subjected to looking at her thong string slinking up her fat ass crack for ten minutes.
I finally got the attention of my usual teller by waving my check in the air and we got things rolling. The teller apologized for the delay by saying the customer was just lonely and was looking to talk. Fuck that. Call a 900 hotline. My Mom is 78 years old and she no more wants to talk to a teller than I want to talk to anyone. Get in there and get your business done. I have things to do. Like drink. I don't want people cutting into my drinking time. I wanted to unsheath my small knife I carry and attempt a bowel resection on both of them. And leave the blood for the two men that were soliciting money outside the store for kids with drug problems. Whom, by the way, never asked anyone for money because they were too busy jabbering with each other. Damn women and damn men that act like them.
posted by GalacticallyStupid at 11:04 PM
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