January 30, 2010
Humility Deposit
You know how I know I’m fine, as in “hot” fine? ‘Cuz the homeless guy at the bank told me so. But let me beep-beep-beep, back up on this story a little bit, though, and tell you about how, as is usually the case in my life, a seemingly innocuous trip to the bank turned into a mildly amusing life lesson.
Along about Thursday I decided to deposit some checks in a timely manner, as there is no longer anything remotely resembling what we used to call “float time” back in the good old days. You remember those days, don’t you, when the thrill of the hunt was in beating the checks you wrote to the bank, with cash in hand to cover them?
This would be a breeze, except I’ve experienced a few challenges, shall we say, with regard to initiating deposits through the outdoor versateller. (Do we still call them versatellers anymore?) Even though the machine, my husband and the teller assure me it’s easy to use the ATM, especially now that we don’t put checks in envelopes, my unfruitful remote depository experiences show otherwise.
So now I’m at the bank where I park my car, nod at the security guard, whose job it is to ensure we’re in the lot for bank business, not funny business, and I head inside. On my way in I notice a guy who looks a bit down and out on his luck, though it hasn’t hampered his propensity toward friendliness. He asks me how I am to which I reply, “Fine” and he picks up on that saying, “You sure are fine. Yeah, you are one fine lady.” Well, I had some fun with that, advising the teller of my status as a “fine” woman and we talked about the “local color” our town has to offer, how the guy was harmless and all of that.
A funny thing happened on my way out of the bank. I started feeling badly that I was kidding about this guy because it was obvious he had not ended up where he was on a winning streak. As I waved good-bye and told him to have a nice day the security guard came up to me and told me he thought our guy was a Vietnam veteran.
We chatted for a few minutes about how important it is to know each other’s stories and that it leads to a greater appreciation of everyone, laughing about how his 11-year history patrolling the lot has afforded him the opportunity of seeing everything…twice! I appreciated the fact that he called me “young lady,” when he told me to drive safely. As I headed for home, assured in the knowledge that my bank account had enough money in it, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the deposit of humility I had just received. And it didn’t need an envelope either.
Humility Deposit
You know how I know I’m fine, as in “hot” fine? ‘Cuz the homeless guy at the bank told me so. But let me beep-beep-beep, back up on this story a little bit, though, and tell you about how, as is usually the case in my life, a seemingly innocuous trip to the bank turned into a mildly amusing life lesson.
Along about Thursday I decided to deposit some checks in a timely manner, as there is no longer anything remotely resembling what we used to call “float time” back in the good old days. You remember those days, don’t you, when the thrill of the hunt was in beating the checks you wrote to the bank, with cash in hand to cover them?
This would be a breeze, except I’ve experienced a few challenges, shall we say, with regard to initiating deposits through the outdoor versateller. (Do we still call them versatellers anymore?) Even though the machine, my husband and the teller assure me it’s easy to use the ATM, especially now that we don’t put checks in envelopes, my unfruitful remote depository experiences show otherwise.
So now I’m at the bank where I park my car, nod at the security guard, whose job it is to ensure we’re in the lot for bank business, not funny business, and I head inside. On my way in I notice a guy who looks a bit down and out on his luck, though it hasn’t hampered his propensity toward friendliness. He asks me how I am to which I reply, “Fine” and he picks up on that saying, “You sure are fine. Yeah, you are one fine lady.” Well, I had some fun with that, advising the teller of my status as a “fine” woman and we talked about the “local color” our town has to offer, how the guy was harmless and all of that.
A funny thing happened on my way out of the bank. I started feeling badly that I was kidding about this guy because it was obvious he had not ended up where he was on a winning streak. As I waved good-bye and told him to have a nice day the security guard came up to me and told me he thought our guy was a Vietnam veteran.
We chatted for a few minutes about how important it is to know each other’s stories and that it leads to a greater appreciation of everyone, laughing about how his 11-year history patrolling the lot has afforded him the opportunity of seeing everything…twice! I appreciated the fact that he called me “young lady,” when he told me to drive safely. As I headed for home, assured in the knowledge that my bank account had enough money in it, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the deposit of humility I had just received. And it didn’t need an envelope either.
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