Sunday, November 20, 2011

A Grateful Heart. Sort of.

The Thanksgiving season always brings to mind a story about herself that my college roommate once told me. Back in ancient times, before one would complete banking transactions on one's phone, one would ride with one's parents in the back seat of the car to the bank drive up lanes.  The parental unit would place papers with strings of numbers on them in a little box, and shove the box upward in a tube, and whoosh!  the box would get sucked up into the ether.  If one was lucky, one could crane one's little neck enough to see the box land in a wire holder in front of the middle aged lady with the huge hair behind the window.  Then, a flurry of flipping and stamping would commence.  Then the lady with the huge hair would put the box in the wire holder, shove it upward, and momentarily it would thunk! into the tube.  If one was lucky, there would be a lollipop in the box as well as the banking materials.  That of course, is why one would crane to see the big hair lady--to ensure that one was also SEEN by the big hair lady.  What a tragedy it would be to be missed!

It seems that at my roommate's parental units' bank, the lollipop could also be obtained inside at the counter.  If the parental units chose to park the car and walk in, there might be a lollipop involved.  However, this bank had rules.  The child must not ASK for the lollipop.  This was in a southern state, and anyone from southern states will recognize the unique combination of "children must be seen and not heard" and "never ask for more than you have worked for or deserve" at play.

So my roommate developed a clever strategy to speak up for herself while following the rules.  She looked the big hair lady right in the eye and said,

"I sure would say thank you if someone were to give me a lollipop!"

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