I was standing in line at the bank. Two customers were ahead of me. I normally avoid going in the bank at all
costs, but I had foolishly entered into a relationship with this bank to save .15%
on a mortgage refinance. They offer no
digital options, apps, or technology that began after 1971. There is a particular smell to the bank, one
I equate with childhood, a combination of industrial cleaners, dust, and old
carpet. It smells like every institutional
building I dutifully walked into with my mother from age 3-12. A sinus headache begins to develop after 30
seconds after entry. My eye sockets have
a slight ache. A broken wall clock mocks
the workers, trapped in a perpetual 1:10pm forever.
A small sign, held up by scotch tape, reads “During this unprecedented
time, we ask you to please wear a mask when in this building”. I shifted my weight to my other foot. There is no indication either teller will be
free soon. The phrase “unprecedented
time” is the default out-clause for the last 15 months to excuse anything. Things have been shut down to varying degrees
for a year. There is clearly a “precedent”
for what is going on. I think of
bringing this to the attention of one of the tellers when I finally get to the
counter.
“Excuse me. This sign
which you have thoughtfully printed out and taped to the wall notes that we are
in an unprecedented time. I ask you, as
we have been doing this for over a year, isn’t that precedent enough? I would have to think that after a couple of
months we all had the swing of things regarding these fabric masks and “clean”
pens which you have thoughtfully placed in this plastic Cleveland Indians cup
for customer’s use. I also think that the 2009 H1N1 epidemic, the
H3N2 epidemic of 1968 when this office was last decorated, or maybe even the
Spanish Flu of 1918 was a “precedent”, don’t you think? Well?
Don’t you? It’s not like a
fucking spaceship landed. There is a “precedent”
here! Do we really need that sign up? Can you change it to say “During this
PRECEDENTED TIME”???”
I’ll be honest. I don’t
think that would go well. Most of the
worker drones at this bank have dead eyes like a sand shark. Their spirits died a decade ago and now they
are waiting for the empty husks of their bodies to catch up. The last thing they want is an existential
argument with some unshaven kook waving a deposit check around like Neville Chamberlain. “Unprecedented times” is a way to say “I’m
tired of trying so don’t even try to call me out”. I spied a calendar in the cubicle of one of
the masked worker drones. The calendar is
cruel. Time moves on but nothing
changes. A small postcard is held to her
cubicle wall with a thumb tack. A kitten
clings to a tree branch. Hang in there,
baby.
I deposit my check. I
have no faith that the woman handling the transaction has accomplished the
task. I expect to receive a threatening letter
weeks from now which I will ignore. I
carefully place my “clean” pen into the “dirty” bucket. I walk out to my car and remove my mask. A teenage girl parks a Jeep Wrangler next to
me. All Jeep Wranglers in my area are
driven by young girls that want to express their freedom and individualism by
driving the exact same car, all of which their Daddies bought them. I make the short drive back to my home to
return to my basement office where I will type into my machine. The sun is out, bravely trying to cut through
the cloud cover. It will have set by the
time I walk back from my windowless office, just like it has each day for the last
seven months during These Unprecedented Times.
Indeed. May 7th cannot come any sooner.
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