The other day something strange happened to me. It was something I have known was deep inside of me, but couldn't channel into. It is a feeling, an attitude, which I had seen a thousand times before. I had even dreamed up situations where I had this attitude. All of my idols have it. It is something many people take for granted or try not to do for fear of being impolite. I wanted, more than anything, to truly stand up for myself. To stare in the face of counterpart without a flench or whimper. Not to threaten, but simply make that counterpart know that I wasn't in the shit-taking business. So that's just what I did.
I work long hours at the City Bank. I'm a teller and my job can be stressful. We're told to where a smile and our best collared shirts. Our hair should be clean and neatly combed. Our shoes should be new and without scuffs. And most of all, we are expected to be a professional at shit-taking.
The average account holder who visits my work finds humor is the most general of things.
"Got any free samples today?"
"That'll be all, less you got them winnin lotto ticket numbers.. haha!"
Never original, never funny. Just bland. Like I imagine all of there lives being.
Daily, my co-worker and I are subject to the on-slot of complaints and comment about our jobs. Nearly all of our customers think we're either bitches, assholes or unfair thieves. What ever happened to settling on a job so you can pay you're electricity bill? Where's the same professional attitude I have to present to you?
I had worked a long hard day. Nearly two-hundred and fifty transactions in one day. I remember that day, because there was no coffee. I'm sure Sally in the accounting office had made the last pot the previous day. I was told that even with a bachelors degree in finance and five years experience as a teller that I was a "stupid fucking jerk, who don't know shit 'bout bankin' account." It's silly really. Nothing I hadn't heard a thousands time before and will probably hear tomorrow too. But still it left me feeling dazed and beaten. I felt fatalistic about the whole situation.
After work I stopped at my friend Tim's house for a drink to unwind and recap the day.
"Is it getting any better at the bank man," Tim said, as he handed me a beer.
"Well I can take smoke breaks again, because the branch manger is out of town again, but
other than that, it's business as usual."
I would often go to Tim for advice about these sorts of feelings. He had a way of painting it in to a picture I could see. I could really understand Tim.
I had left Tim's after only one hour. I was tire. Beat. Prime for some a shower then dinner and some reading before bed. My nightly ritual. I had pulled over to the side of the road just off of Tim's street to roll a cigarette. It was dark outside, the moon was almost completely gone. Only a small sliver was cracking through the heavy clouds. I thought, no man it's too dark I'd better to up the street and roll this in the Arby's parking lot, where there were several street lights.
As I turn the corner, out of the shadows of a cornered house, a mean, loud almost barking "HEEEY, HEY YOU! STOP NOW!" came from the from a nearby shrub. It hit me like a punch in the gut. Did I hit something? Is the car okay? What has happened? All I could think to do was hit the breaks, hard.
A man, most likely of fifties stepped out of the shadows. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his aged beer stomach nearly hid his white gym shorts. He was typical. Just like all the customers at the bank. I local-yocal.
"Say can I help you wit somethin?"
I simple question really. There wasn't much to it, but nevertheless a stupid one. Help me? With what? My response came as a surprise even to me. I knew the old bastard couldn't have seen it coming. He was a probably well respected in his community. People liked him because he was like them. He had a Ford pick-up in his drive-way, a dog in his back yard and he went to church every Sunday morning with his wife. My response came as a surprise to both of us.
"NO! YOU CAN'T!"
"Well you mind if I ask what you think you're doin? Parkin in front of people's houses and
such?'
"Well actually I do care. It's none of you're business. I needed to stop for a second. No big
deal."
This shocked him, he couldn't believe someone of his stature was being spoken to like this. But I knew I was right. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. This only made the man with the beer gut more angry and aggressive. 'How dare this little shit-head' he must have thought. He continues,
"There's been a lotta house broken in to 'round here, buddy. I's just seein what you was
doin'sall."
"Well I'm not doing anything aright. You can't police the world man. Besides it's 8:45 at
night, not exactly prime-time for break ins, yeah?"
"Well look here--"
"No man you look here. My friend lives two streets up. I'm just passing through, when you see me trying to get into someone's house, then by all means, stop me. But until then,
piss out and have a great night!"
I took off. I had the window done and I instantly cranked up my stereo as I drove off down the road. The Rolling Stones. Beast of Burden. Hell yeah.
Moments afterwards when I was recapping what had just happened, I realized that what I had done was right. I did what anyone standing up for themselves would have done. But yet it was foreign still, almost as if I had watched the whole scene from the passenger seat. Like the day-to-day me wasn't really there. It was something new and fresh.
