Yes, my charm is indeed down a quart.
I am so angry it’s a good thing I’m not armed, well, unless you count my mouth that’s twitching like a .38.
I’m starting to resent the expression: God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. Who the hell came up with that anyway?
I was at the bank asking a pretty Latino girl to help me change a credit card number on my online Chase account. She was so lovely to look at until she snapped, “You need to do this yourself. I can’t help you.”
Now I’m no Rockefeller, but feel as a customer, required assistance should be a given, but little Cecily didn’t agree. “We have helped in the past only as a courtesy.”
“You don’t say.”
Well, off the rails I went, especially when my hearing loss seemed to annoy her.
“I WANT TO SEE A MANAGER….NOW!!!”‘
A little man came out with crumbs on his navy bank blazer obviously in the midst of breakfast. To his credit, he stopped eating.
I said, how rude this young woman was to me managing not to cry or grab him by his tie. He said he was sorry, and helped me.
He then said, “You know madam, we are trying to educate our patrons so they become more personally efficient.”
“In other words, you are reducing your services…is that right?”
He looked as if I caught him masturbating into the ATM machine.
One of the problems in our world is we want to help less, when it should be more. When did we become this withholding?
Cecily was staring at me as I prepared to leave. I looked up and said in my most gracious tone of voice, “What’s your problem there cupcake, did you forget your manners at home?”
Her expression never changed, but mine did.