2003-02-03 - 11:46 p.m.

Complainers

So, today while doing my usual Monday bank deposit, I got stuck behind a couple of complainers.

On the way into the bank I got stuck behind two old ladies. The lead one was walking very slowly, the second was reciting a litany of complaints under her breath.

It would have been nice to go around this obstruction, but I wasn't quick enough. They were going into the bank too, and of course they wound up in line in front of me.

In fact, there was quite a long line - something I don't usually see there. I don't really mind waiting in line; there is plenty going on inside my head to amuse me. I figured that the wait was due to the fact it was around lunchtime - I usually don't get to the bank until 2:30 in the afternoon.

Looking at the other people standing in line, I noticed that they were more beat-up looking than the usual bank customer. Then it occurred to me: oh yeah. It's the first Monday in the month and all the old fogies have their Social Security checks. Lovely.

The lady in front of me was still complaining. Now she was complaining that the line was too long. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore her. She didn't look like she was being kept from anything important while she cooled her heels in line.

Then, this old guy comes in and starts talking to her. It was obvious that he was her husband or something like that. He was a couple inches shorter than her, and he seemed to have about two teeth left in his head. He'd dyed his hair black, but the fact that he had about an inch of gray roots showing sort of undid the youthful effect he was looking for. Basically, he looked like an elderly clown - someone who was trying to deny to the world (and himself) that he was past retirement age.

He also seemed pretty stupid, a grinning dummy. However, he managed to do a magic trick. While he and his wife were nattering to each other, I was looking at some stuff in my checkbook. When I looked up, the old clown had somehow gotten in line in front of me. He didn't look spry enough to get under the velvet ropes that were defining where people should stand, especially without me noticing. I debated saying something, but decided against it. Who needs the hassle?

At first it didn�t seem like such a hardship that Elder Bozo joined his wife in line, but then it became obvious that he had a check of his own to cash. He was bragging that it was for $20,000, making a joke about it. However, the most annoying part of this was that now the complaining lady had someone to complain OUT LOUD to, so she didn't have to mutter. Standing in line is not exactly fun, but listening to these two make idiotic remarks to each other really started giving me a headache.

They were talking like being forced to wait in line for ten minutes was a huge injustice. I felt like pointing out to them that the Social Security checks they were clutching were funded by my taxes, but Social Security is due to go broke about five years before I can collect any. Now THAT'S an injustice! Now shut the fuck up!

To keep the Excedrin demons at bay, I tried to come up with amusing replies to their dumb remarks.

"That teller is a nice boy, but he's awful SLOW," she said in a stage whisper.

"He doesn't seem so slow when you're not an old woman with a brain full of crank," I thought to myself.

And so it went. It was an exasperating experience. I then compounded the effect by going to the grocery store next door for some soda after I was done at the bank. Just like the bank, it was packed with oldsters. Old ladies kept running into me with their shopping cars, only to dither in the middle of the aisles when I was trying to get through. I'm standing in the checkout line with my twelve-pack of soda when who should get into line behind me - the complainers.

Lemme out of here! Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed.