"uncle" phil

What's on my mind tonight?

Customer service 

and when it goes too far.

Specifically, I'm talking about my bank.

The tellers are just too much.

"Hi.  Welcome to TD.  How are you today?

Having a good day?

What are you doing this evening?

What are your plans this weekend?

How's work going these days?"

They just don't let up and I kinda want to say

"Stop asking me these questions!

We aren't friends.

I don't want to share the details of my weekend with you.

Just deposit my cheque in silence."

But that would be totally rude,

especially in the face of their overt niceness.

Its too much, really.

So I have resorted to making a game of it.

I say as little as humanly possible (with a smile on my face) 

and watch them squirm to come up with another question.

Its kinda fun.

But the over-the-top worst?

The bank manager of the branch right by my house.

The first time I was in there I'd walked down with the dogs to use the ATM

and this guy came up to us as I was punching in my PIN and tried to pat Finn on the head saying,

"Hey there buddy!  Its Uncle Phil.  How ya doing fella?"

Immediately my mind started racing.

Uncle Phil

Uncle Phil

who the hell is that?

Do I have an uncle named Phil?

No I don't.

The dogs and I had the same thought: stranger danger.

I left in a hurry with absolutely no clue as to who he was 

(and several glances over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't following me home)

until the next time I went to that branch

and he was holding the door open for people and welcoming them to the bank.

On that particular day  there happened to be a line-up of about 15 people 

and he was greeting us all and calling out reassuring messages to the crowd,

"It won't be long now folks."
all the while inviting us to look at a table of used books he had set up by the door
like some sort of library in the bank.

I almost called back to him,

"Uncle Phil, there are empty teller booths.  Step into one and help move this line along."

But I kept quiet.

You can't really say something that rude when everyone is so darn nice in there, can you?

They'd probably put my picture up in the back with a big

GRUMP sticker on my forehead.

Then I'd get bombarded with questions about my mood,

"How are you today Candice?

Feeling better than the last time you were in?

What are you doing about those grumpy impatient feelings you get?
Got any plans this weekend?
Yeah, like what?"