Brief Descriptions of People I Dislike:

Memoirs of the Severely Cynical

Posts tagged Dexter

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The slowest man in america and the sassy british tart.

The slowest man in America wears a wool overcoat and a leather golf cap. And he’s black. I don’t want this to be a racial thing, but it sorta helps when you’re trying to picture this person, you know, so you can avoid him in the future.

I got stuck behind this man (who could have been ANY race but just happened to be black) a week ago at Subway. He ordered a sandwich with everything on it, only he didn’t just say “Everything on it,” he had to name each individual ingredient and ask for the proper terminology. “What are those yellow pepper things? Banana peppers? Yes, I’ll take those. And those green peppers? No, the other green peppers. Jalapenos? Yes, I’ll take those, too. And pickles. And…” It went on for sheer minutes. When it came time to pay, the man was literally taken by surprise. He had to search three pockets before he could produce a wallet, and out of that came a disheveled wad of unsorted cash. Flipping through soggy bills for another thirty seconds, the man eventually produced ALMOST the correct amount, but then he seemed to remember change as an afterthought, which sent his hands scurrying into even more pockets… It was awful. I swear, I almost wish the guy had just tried to pay with a personal check and been done with it. 

The dreadful little college girl in front of me in the bank this afternoon blew the leather cap guy away. She would have beaten him for the title if not for the fact that she wasn’t a man and didn’t seem to be from America based on her obvious accent. For frame of reference, try picturing Lila from season two of Dexter. Except this chick wasn’t attractive, and no director had her occasionally flash tits to keep me interested in the “character.”

I was only in the bank to make a withdrawal. The ATM right outside was broken, so I had to take the human interaction route. Despite it being lunch time and right outside a food court, the place was empty save one chick in random hobo/hipster clothes. You know the type: off-brand chucks with leg warmers, leggings instead of real pants, a sweater instead of a skirt, a worn-out jacket, and a scarf that was worn much too loosely to be doing any good. She was already filling out a deposit or withdrawal slip when I went in, so I purposefully took my time filling out my own withdrawal so I’d be behind her. To do otherwise would have felt like line jumping.

There was only one teller, and the British (or whatever, I’m bad with accents) chick was quite the little talker. This weather is simply DREADFUL. She fears it’s so cold it may never warm up again. Yes, winters HERE are simply the worst. Oh no, this isn’t her first year here. Yes, she was here for winter last year with all the snow. But it’s still so COLD. Oh, did you know she was going to use this money to buy a laptop? YES! A friend of hers bought a laptop and then dropped it in water. She just doesn’t know HOW it could have gotten dropped in water, but it seems to happen to just EVERYONE. It’s never happened to HER, but that’s because she’s CAREFUL. Oh, and is it okay if she just asks a few questions about overseas wire transfers into her account? Yes, it should have been for around a hundred dollars, but not a hundred dollars exactly. Ninety-three dollars and seventy-one cents? No, that doesn’t sound right. Is there a fee for the wire transfer? Yes? And would it come out on her end or his? His, eh? Well she must SUPPOSE the ninety—what was it? Yes, she must SUPPOSE the ninety-three dollars and seventy-odd cents has to be right. Oh, thank you, yes she WOULD like to know the balance on her account. What? How is it only FIVE hundred and thirteen something? No, she DOESN’T know. It was five seventy-five last night. No, she doesn’t remember making any withdrawals. Could you just? Oh, a check? Yes, she did write a check. That went through already? Well, she SUPPOSES that’s correct then. Yes, thank you.

You know what would have been awesome? Treating the goddamn exchange of currency as a business transaction rather than a trip to the hair salon. Actually, it would’ve just been better if all the other tellers hadn’t been away to lunch, or if the ATM outside had actually worked. Really, any of those would have been fine alternatives to listening to a droll accent for ten minutes while I became progressively later and later for work.

Filed under annoyance slow waiting in line Subway bank accents Dexter