Okay, let's get this straight. I'm old, I have a grand child and gray hair. My arse is sinking to greet the back of my knees. I have an AARP card. I also have a meager balance in my bank account. Make that two bank accounts with one meager balance that I move back and forth for exercise...
Yesterday morning I stopped at the bank.
(No personal, inside the bank service for me...I couldn't deal with the friendly faces, the smiles pasted on haphazzardly. I wanted anonymity!)
As I pulled up to the drive through (scraping the seat of Andy's bike on the overhang (Did I tell you about this already?). In response to the sickening screech, the teller at the window looks up and says into the microphone, "Be careful, you might injure your bike!"
After all the hustle bustle of checking on the bike (that retails for slightly more than my Jeep) mumbling the appropriate words of apology...yada, yada, yada, I retrieve the envelope containing Tony's cash from the tube. As I replace the container, I hear the chipper voice of the teller who is too young for my eldest son to date, saying brightly and for all withing ear shot to hear, "Thank you, Janet!"
"Janet?" Where does this young lady, and I use the term loosly, get off calling me by my first name? Where is respect? Where is etiquette? Where are her parents? Her superiors?
Then this morning Tony tells me that he was with his employer, a dignified and very sweet seventy year old man and heard the drive through teller call HIM by his first name.
What is this world coming to?
Off to my knitting. I finished the socks for Jamie (my darling son-in-law) yesterday. Today will be a toss up between Andy and Tony...depends on which one treats me better. Since Tony took me golfing last night - even though he made me walk the course - he's ahead in brownie points!
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