Two scenes from the past week
Scene 1: Me at the bank, trying to get the ginormous cheque for the real estate lawyer:
Teller: [frowning at my passport] This signature doesn’t match.
Me: I know, it was issued before I was married. I don’t have any ID with my married name on it. I do have my marriage license though.
Teller: Do you have the ID you opened the account with?
Me: The account was opened for me when I was about five years old, so no.
Time passes, in which several supervisors get involved and I produce every piece of ID I’ve ever owned.
Teller: Do you have anything that has your current signature on it?
Me: Do you have any doubt that I am the holder of this account?
Teller: No, but…
Me: So what’s the problem?
I emerge from the lion’s den, carrying a bank draft for the remainder of the down payment, the lawyer’s fee, and my first-born child. I run into our mortgage person at the door.
Me: That was the most stressful part of the whole home-buying process.
Scene 2: At the drugstore, 9:50 AM this morning.
I arrive at the drugstore with a completed application form for something I’m applying for. All I need is to print off another headshot, then I’m going to go drop it off. But the photo counter is closed.
Me: [addressing one of the cashiers] Excuse me, do you know when the photo counter is opening?
Teller: Ten o’clock.
Me: Oh, OK.
I order my single print through the automatic system, then wait. And wait.
10:05 – I stand at the photo counter, drumming my fingers impatiently.
10:15 – I wander through the store and contemplate buying more allergy pills.
10:20 – I drop one of my gloves.
10:25 – I notice I’ve dropped one of my gloves and search frantically for it.
10:30 – Photo counter woman finally arrives.
Me: Hi, I put in this order a little while ago.
Photo counter woman: I can’t possibly do it right away, I have seven orders in front of you.
Me: Do you know how long it’ll take?
PCW: No, I don’t know. I can’t do anything about it.
Me: Is it worth me even standing here and waiting?
PCW: I don’t know.
Me: OK, cancel the order then. I’ll go somewhere else.
Which I did, after retrieving my lost glove from one of the cashiers. I got the photo printed at another place without incident and dropped off my application.
You know, all I wanted to do in either case was get some vital but incidental thing, put it in a goddamn envelope and hand it to someone else. I just want to put this envelope in your hand. Is that too much to ask?