Recently, I was at the Wells Fargo at 19th Ave. and Geary Blvd. I stood in line trying to be patient and also to avoid looking at the little television that shows you what you look like standing in line at the goddamned bank. I hate those things.
When it was my turn, the teller who was helping me was a young guy who's been working there for awhile. He has always been friendly and has a penchant for smart little bow ties. On this day, he looked tired and his smile wasn't as big as usual. "How's your day going today?" he asked as he took care of my deposit.
"It's going okay," I responded, "how about yours?"
"Yeah, that's about it. Okay. But getting worse all the time." He smiled ruefully.
This caught me off guard and I wasn't quite sure how to respond. I kind of liked it, though. I have a special fondness for people who don't always give the run-of-the-mill "fine, thank you" answer. I commented on it to Ivan when I returned home.
A couple days later, a voicemail was left on my phone. It was a representative from Wells Fargo wanting to talk to me about my interaction with that particular teller on my visit to the bank.
Poor guy. When I go to the bank today, I have a feeling he won't be there.