A little civility wouldn't hurt, would it?
I was in the banking industry way, way back, when Adam was a boy. Anyone walking into a banking hall back then knew where they should head for their various transaction. The teller counters were clearly marked. After a pretty long stretch, I had occasion to enter a bank recently. Teller counters are now marked by numbers and standing in the middle of the customer area right opposite some sort of receptionist was an electronic ticket issuing thingamajig. I stared at the electronic screen, dazed by the 6 to 7 selections available. (It was a lot simpler at the hospital. You select "A" if you're in for the morning session and "B" for the afternoon.)
With 6 to 7 multiple selection, one needed to pause to think this over. The lines between the category can be pretty vague. An elderly gentleman joined me at the ticket issuing thingamajig. I stepped aside indicating my decision to let him have a go at the ticket first. He looked at the multiple selection, his face clouded by indecision. While we paused, each encumbered by dubiety, a young lady appeared. Without so much as an "Excuse Me", she punched the first selection "INVESTMENT" impatiently and chided us for standing where we were because she could not get her ticket which appeared mysteriously by the way, in a collecting tray below. What insolence, I thought. She cut the queue without a word and had the cheeks to chastise us for being in her way.
If she had anything at all between her ears, she would have asked us what we had wanted and helped us make the selection, then proceed with her own. To make matters worse, she gave us no opportunity to retort. She stormed off loftily, smoldering and muttering incoherently.
In due course, I made my selection and headed for an empty seat. Her number had not been called and she was fidgeting impatiently outside a cubicle.
"May she live to regret this day", I muttered uncharitably without a shred of remorse. By some stroke of good luck, I was called first and as I walked past her, I could not help chortling gleefully. "May you wait a million more hours before they attend to you," I thought, amazed by my own vindictiveness. And then I noticed the bulge in her tummy-tum-tum. The girl was pregnant.
