The Upside of a Double Standard
A few months ago I went into my local bank branch to deposit a check for $29,000. It was made out to me,
The young woman at the customer service desk was serving me. I was opening a savings account and, therefore, needed to change my “home” office from
All fine, but annoying as I’d just wrapped up entering all my bill payment details for most of my regular bills into the payment manager.
I’m sitting here pretty normal, a normal pretty girl in the age range of 25 to 40. Casually, slovenly comfortable.
$29,000: Not a huge sum. She took the personal check, read the names of the married couple who held the account together in
“Gift from mom and dad?” she asked.
I looked at her closely again.
Since the time that she’d asked me to be patient while she tried to pull the details of my checking account up on the computer (“It’s my first week”) with no luck, I had been examining, supposing her “details.”
She looked to be between 28 and 40, edged up slightly in my own estimation by a polished look. Long, straight hair hanging loose, but neat, to her shoulders. Skin dark, features broad but feminine. Nice, clean teeth and eyes I could imagine smiling, resting gently as her head sunk into a shoulder as she settled in to watch T.V. or read a book in comfortable clothes. Probably had a boyfriend, or maybe a roommate, just out of college, who she’d spend a weekend with enjoying the freedom money brings.
Can I imagine her going to church with her parents every Sunday? Or waking up at 5 a.m. mornings to head off to the gym? Vegetarian? Mother? Religion?
Addictions?
My own, a tendency to escape a moment now gaining speed now in the lurch of her learning curve. I’ll overtake her soon and figure out an answer to her chit chat, customer-friendly question. Me, sitting here.
Do I look like someone who would be getting a $29,000 gift from my mom and dad? What must she be thinking? Why would she ask such a presumptuous question?
NO THAT’S ME! I’M KATY M. ADDIE, I want to scream!
“No, that’s me. I just got divorced and that’s part of the settlement,” I say.
Her eyes shift.
“I can’t figure this out,” she’s exasperated now at not finding me in the system.
The images of her in various situations that flickered through my mind fade into the realization that she could presume something about me so far from the truth.
She’s gone now to find someone to help. Yes, someone who knows what’s going on. We learn she must log out of
“I need to go pick up my kids at school by 4,” I say. “Would it be better for me to come back another time?”
No, there you are. Close there. Open here.
Thank you very much.