Every week I go into PNC to deposit checks and inquire about the status of the loan I requested to build a catapult that can hurl a turnip over seventy yards. The problem is that every week the bank teller attempts to engage in small talk with me, and every week I panic and lie for no reason at all other than that I’m not very good at holding conversations that aren’t about the terminal velocity of a turnip. Here is how our last few conversations went.
Tuesday
TELLER: Hi, I’m Tara. How can I help you?
ME: I need to deposit these checks.
TELLER: No problem. Have you been watching March Madness?
ME: No, I can’t really watch basketball.
TELLER: That’s too bad, do you not have cable?
ME: No, I have PTSD.
TELLER: What?
ME: I was a professional level point guard and broke my sternum during a game. It was pretty traumatizing so now I can’t watch it.
*1 minute silence*
TELLER: *Looks at checks* Oh, I’m from Dublin, Ohio too!
ME: I’m from Dublin, Ireland.
TELLER: You don’t have an accent.
ME: I am from an American neighborhood there called “Little Cleveland.”
TELLER: Your checks say Dublin, Ohio.
ME: That’s a typo.
TELLER: Do you have plans for summer break?
ME: I’m opening a Borders Book Store with my biological father.
TELLER: I thought those weren’t around anymore.
ME: That’s why we are opening one.
TELLER: Ok, well, do you want any cash back from these checks?
ME: Yes, $40 please.
TELLER: Would you like that in twenties or small bills?
ME: Nickels.
TELLER: Nickels?
ME: …Nickels.
TELLER: Um, ok. Can I ask why?
ME: So I can trade them for cash at the change machine at Kroger.
TELLER: But I can give you cash here.
ME: Uh…yeah I guess…but I have to go there anyway to pick up my…Rogaine.
TELLER: Jesus. Ok, have a nice day.
Friday
ME: Hi, I need to order more checks. Usually I talk to Tara, but I guess she’s not here.
TELLER: Yeah, Tara quit like three days ago. She said something about being tired of dealing with weirdos. I can help you though.
ME: Great, thanks.
TELLER: How many checks do you need?
ME: 100.
TELLER: Ok, let me just pull up your account. I like your sweater.
ME: Thank you, it is actually an American Girl Doll sweater that I stretched out to fit a real human.
TELLER: That doesn’t seem possible.
ME: That’s what my tailor said, but I proved him wrong.
TELLER: Um…ok. So how are your classes going?
ME: Pretty good. I’ve had to grade a lot of exams lately.
TELLER: Oh, so you’re a TA?
ME: I’m a professor. A tenured professor.
TELLER: Wow, you look very young for a professor. What do you teach?
ME: …Chemistry.
TELLER: Really? I’m actually in chemistry right now. Can I ask you a question about it?
ME: I like to keep work separate from my private life…I’m…uh…building a turnip catapult; wouldn’t you rather hear about that?
TELLER: Please, I have an exam tomorrow and this is your area of expertise.
ME: Yes, ok then.
TELLER: How do I set up an ICE table?
ME: Right, yes. ICE tables. First, find a good slab of ice. Make sure it is in an environment where it won’t melt, like a tundra or the freezer section of Costco, then—
TELLER: I meant like ICE tables for calculations. Or is there some kind of formula I can use?
ME: My guess would be Pythagorean Theorem. No, no, no, don’t google that. Scientists are still debating all of this, so you will probably get a different answer than what I told you. If you get questions from your professor, just say that I told you how to do ICE tables and they should give you credit.
TELLER: Ok, what is your name again so I can tell them?
ME: Esmerelda Penumbra.
TELLER: Your account is under Janie Beaufore.
ME: Esmerelda Penumbra is my stage name. Teaching is like a performance. So, about those checks?
TELLER: I ordered them.
ME: Have you heard anything about the status of the turnip catapult loan?
TELLER: Please ask for Brian next time you are here.
-Janie Beaufore, Contributor