Apr 22, 2016 2:38pm

I am the only customer in the dark little store. There is a sole female clerk, wearing a short, tightly fitting dress with broad shiny bangles, multiple golden rings on several of her fingers and large golden earrings dangling from her ears, standing behind the counter. I choose three items…

“I would like to have these three, please; each in a paper envelope.”

Meticulously, she removes each from its plastic case, folds the labels, and slips them into paper envelopes. The task takes longer than it should due to her very long, gem-studded fingernails, and her frequent furtive glances in my direction.

“I remember you.”

“You do?… Is it because of the extra work I’m having you do with the envelopes?”

“It’s no problem. You were in here a few months ago.” (She hands the envelopes to me.) 



Tale of the Teller

Wednesday October 5th, 2016 5:32pm

There is one line of customers being served by two tellers; a middle aged woman and a young man sitting behind one-way reflective glass panes with narrow horizontal slots in them.

I am fourth and last in line, and I see the male teller scan the line with his eyes. My assumption is that he is hoping no one joins the line after me.

He looks at me and begins speeding up his transactions; quickly taking care of one customer, then the next, until I am next in line.

He glances up at me again, appearing exasperated by the aged lady now at his window. She is slowly counting her change, asking several trivial questions.

Impatiently, he checks to see how far the other teller has gone with her customers transaction, then he looks at me again.

It is then that it occurs to me that he is trying to make sure that I end up at his window.

The old lady finishes counting and I move to his window. Throughout my transaction he makes long and deliberate eye contact with me, and batting his eyelids frequently.

To complete my transaction I am required to give him my name and phone number.

I would prefer not to receive any phone calls.

Tale of the Teller