Archive for August, 2012


I’m Not Here!


I was sitting on the sofa in our break room during my lunch hour, reading a book. Directly at the foot of this couch is the door leading to our teller line. As I am sitting there, the door opens about halfway and one of my coirkers, the teller manager, tiptoes in and closes the door behind her as queitly as she can. This is kind of odd behavior for her, so I look up from my book and she notices me watching her.

“I can’t go out there, Mr. (name) is out there! He’ll talk my ear off.”

Mr. (name) is one of our “chatty” customers, he always latches on the whomever helps him and take the standard greeting of “How are you doing today?” extremely literally. He will list, with exacting detail, Every. Single. Thing. that has ever gone wrong in his life. It is quite an impressive list, featuring such things as the Internet, various political things, and the city repaving the street in front of his house.

I winced when I heard the name.

“So you’re just going to hide back here until he leaves?” She nods and opens the door a crack, peeking out.

“Watch him have to do a wire, too. He’ll be here all day.” She closes the door. “I have things to do!”

She spent about ten to fifteen minutes hiding the the break room before she felt it was safe to go back to her office – where she could have gone instead of going to the break room and gotten started on all that work she needed to get done.

This is not quite the most dramatic customer-dodging behavior I have seen. Once a teller dropped to her hands and knees and crawled like a child, hidden from view by the teller counter, to avoid one of her more verbose customers. It was pretty funny.

Hi There!


I was sitting in traffic, waiting for the light to change, when I noticed a beautiful rainbow in the sky. I naturally reached for my camera, which I take everywhere, so I could snap a picture. I happen to look over at the car beside me and what did my wandering eyes see? A woman, her forearms propped up on her steering wheel, using her cell phone to take a picture. I smiled and decided to take a picture of the woman taking a picture of the rainbow, because I thought it would be funny, but then the light changed and I didn’t have time. I was left with no pictures of either a rainbow or a woman taking a picture of a rainbow.

The moral of this little story is this – take pictures faster.

Wake-Up Call!


Don’t you love it when, after a delightful evening of very little sleep, you are standing in the shower while you attempt to reach some level of wakefulness and a great big spider – I don’t know exactly how big because I don’t bathe with my glasses on, but the blurry spot was pretty broad and leggy – runs across the inside of the shower curtain?

There’s no amount of caffeine in the world that can stimulate you like that.

Shelob, Jr is probably still running around in my bathroom somewhere, since I decided that chasing after it while wearing nothing but a little lukewarm water would not be a good thing. And of course I’ll probably have a dream where the thing will pop out of the toilet at me, since that’s how my brain works.

It Doesn’t Work Like That


About twenty minutes before closing, we had a customer sign in to see one of our reps regarding what she referred to as “money missing” from her account. This is sadly a rather regular occurrence at [ghostbank] – usually due to someone stealing account information through various means. She went in with one of our reps and I went back to doing my thing.

After a few minutes I noticed the rep was calling up our supervisor (my phone is the switchboard so I can tell who is calling where) and after a few minutes walked over to her office. There was some discussion and the supervisor went with the rep to her office. More discussion, a little louder this time. The customer marches over to the courtesy phone in our lobby and starts dialing. The supervisor went back to her office after stopping by my desk – she told me to let her know when the police arrived.

Okay – having the police show up at your workplace is never a good sign, especially if you work in a bank.

About five minutes before closing, two patrol officers arrived – they spoke first with the boss and then with the customer, whom they escorted out of our office.I got the story from my supervisor later, and it was a humdinger.

The customer was claiming that five hundred and eighty-eight million dollars had been taken from her account. We had no record of that amount ever existing in her account and she had no record of it as well – we were to take her word for it, I guess. She insisted the money had been stolen and wanted to file a police report since we were “not helping” her like we were supposed to. I’m not really sure if she wanted to file a report about the fictitious money or the fact that we didn’t hand over half a billion dollars on her say-so, but either way it wasn’t going to happen. She actually called the police – who gave her a stern talking-to and walked her off the property, since by that time she was becoming belligerent.

Based on what I heard and my own experiences, one of three things happened:

  1. She was attempting to con [ghostbank] out of $588 million (if that’s the case, kudos on the chromium cojones, lady.)
  2. She was taken in by some sort of con, probably a Nigerian scam, where she sent a sum to someone and they were supposed to send a huge amount of money to her in return.
  3. She was delusional or some other flavor of crazy.

My money is on option 2; sadly people still fall for these things even though there has been multiple reports on the ‘net and more traditional media regarding these scams. I guess some people still haven’t learned TANSTAAFL.*

 

 

 

 

*An acronym found often in Heinlein stories, There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

Quality Family Time!


On Saturday as we were heading home from breakfast, Mother Dearest asked if anyone needed to go anywhere. GhostDad mentioned a few things he needed and the asked if we could stop at the ABC store. (For those of you who don’t live in North Carolina – there are no privately owned liquor stores, all such stores are run by the Alcoholic Beverage Control board, hence the name.) There happened to be one on the way to the other store, so we stopped and piled out of the car. As we got to the door, I turned towards MD.

“There’s nothing like a family trip to the liquor store on a Saturday!”

She laughed as we went in. While GD priced the whiskey, MD and I browsed around and made fun of the flavored vodkas that have gotten so popular.

Cookie dough flavored vodka? Really?

We all ended up buying something – GD got his whiskey, MD got this really yummy vanilla rum, and I got a bottle of cherry brandy (for medicinal purposes.) I also got a little single-shot bottle of something called Kinky liqueur, a bubblegum-pink “naughty infusion of super premium vodka distilled five times with succulent mango, blood orange liqueur, and passion fruit” according to the label.

I bought it mostly because, like small children and many species of birds, I am attracted to small, brightly colored things.

 It’s pretty weak as alcohol goes, 34 proof, but it tastes pretty good – very fruity and sweet, but not as overpoweringly sweet as a wine cooler. I poured about half the little bottle into a glass of tea and it was yummy but not enough to get me tipsy-feeling. I might go back and get a bigger bottle.

Lillie Langtry


Lillie Langtry was a famous beauty in her day, best known for her many affairs with noblemen (including the future King Edward VII) was close friends with Oscar Wilde (who encouraged her to take up acting) and it is thought by many that she was the inspiration for Irene Adler of the Sherlock Holmes series.

She also had the waist of a Barbie doll.

Breathing’s over-rated, I guess.

He’s Right Behind You!


Design for a theatre poster advertising a production of the 1886 pantomime Aladdin. From The National Archives.

Excuse Me?


Our bathrooms at work, like many bathrooms in businesses, are smallish windowless rooms brightly lit my flourescent lighting. It’s a three-stall job on the ladies’ side, I’ve never been in the men’s room so I have no idea how it is set up.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I was sitting in there, contemplating the inner workings of the Universe, and the lights went out.

It wasn’t a power outage – another person turned the lights off.

This woman had to have heard me enter – I wasn’t pretending to be a toilet-ninja – and had to walk right past the closed door of the stall I was occupying to wash her hands and leave. I could very clearly hear her. She just turned off the lights.

Do you know the layout of your work bathroom well enough to navigate it in the frickin’ dark? I found out, rather depressingly, that I do.

I could understand flicking the light off out of reflex, I’ve done that once or twice, but I usually recognize my mistake – that I’m not at my home but am instead at a place of business – and turn the light back on. She just strolled out like it wasn’t any big deal.

 

Oh, and as a special bonus – the day was topped off by a woman who wanted something notarized but had absolutely no state or federal ID of any kind. Apparently “having an account” is enough proof of identity and we should just take her word as gospel. When informed that the world does not, in fact, revolve around her, the woman became very angry and demanded that the rep helping her close out all of her accounts. Not a problem – as long as you have an ID. Things got kind of screamy after that.

And Now, This.


A pink fairy armadillo, AKA the pichiciego.

Just because I think it’s kinda cute. I was link-hopping around and came across a photo of this little guy and just went “Awww, look at the little armored mole wearing catcher’s mitts!”

It was this or discuss my cramps, so – voila! Miniature armadillo it is.


I was working in the sweing room the other day, surrounded by my furry little angels, when I needed to sit down at the sewing machine. There’s only one chair in the sewing room and it was occupied at the time by Firefly, who was curled up fast asleep. Normally you can pick Firefly up when she’s asleep and, as long as you are gentle, place her somewhere else and she will just go back to sleep. I touched her and she must have been having a bad dream or something because she whipped her head around and bit down on my arm.

Hard – like “left little bruises that are still visible three days later” hard.

It also kind looks like I was bitten by a very small and hesitant vampire.

I winced as soon as her head moved because I knew it was going to hurt (hells, yes) but I didn’t want to jerk my arm out of the way because by that point she had her teeth in me and it could have made things worse. She flinched as soon as she realized what she was doing and let me go, so I gave her a little pop on the nose, picked her up, and relocated her to another area.

Since I’m about as dark as a pail of milk, the bruises showed up really well on Monday, but they are fading nicely now. The punctures will take a little longer, but it’s not like I’ve never been bitten by a cat before.