Concrete Hustle

I'm having a hard time coming up with something to write tonight. You'd think, having the day off, and having not much happen to me at all, I'd find some way to be more creative. Not the case. So here's a video from the YouTube that was shown to me last week by one of the Greene kids. I found it to be most impressive.

Legends of the Bank Teller - Episode LXXVI

One of the fun things about working for a nationally recognized bank is the incredible array of e-mails that I am bombarded with on a daily basis. My favorite kinds are the ones that state the obvious.

Today we arrived at work and were greeted by e-mails that warned us that many account balances were posting incorrectly on our system. Not long later, the entire system went down. For bankers in the 21st century, this is a crippling thing. We do everything with our computers. We run your transactions, we process your withdrawals, we make your payments, we look up your account numbers... when the system crashes, these simple procedures are impossible.

Roughly ten minutes after our bank-wide computer program went down, I began to wonder why we hadn't received an e-mail informing us that the program had gone down. Because that usually seems to be the first thing that happens when something like that happens. Someone out there gets the bright idea to send an e-mail to everyone working for the bank everywhere in the country to let them know what they already know: the computers aren't working right.

They don't send along any helpful information. Those obvious e-mails never tell us what the problem is, nor do they give us an estimated time to expect the problem to be resolved.

Eventually, after a few hours of chaos, the system was restored to its normal state. Of course, we all received another obvious e-mail informing us that the system was back up and running.

I need more people in my life who will tell me things I already know.

The Single Guy and the Yellow Streak

He hadn't seen the Girl in the White SUV in nearly two weeks. She had been back to the bank once since the day she thanked him for the card he had sent. However, that fateful day was the Single Guy's day off. He knew she wouldn't just stop coming to the bank, nor would she stop coming to his teller window, but he couldn't help but wonder when he would see her again.

In the days that passed by, the Single Guy played different scenarios in his head. Mostly he just thought about what his next move should be. It was as if he was playing an elaborate game of chess with his heart at stake. After an entire week of work passed by without seeing her, he made the decision that he would just ask her out.

There would be nothing complicated about this task. The Girl in the White SUV would just pull up to his window as she normally did. The Single Guy would make the same small talk that he normally did as he ran her transaction. And before she had the chance to drive away, he would simply ask her to have coffee with him. In his mind it seemed so simple.

Monday arrived, and brought with it a new week at work fresh with possibility. He told his friends and his co-workers that today would be the day, assuming she came to the bank, that is. The Single Guy was ready to ask the Girl in the White SUV the question that he'd wanted to ask for months.

And then she came. As soon as her car was in view, the Single Guy knew it wouldn't be as easy as he had imagined it would be. He was able to say hello and ask how she was doing. But after that, while he was making her deposit, he felt as if his throat was closing up. He was afraid that if he tried to speak again, nothing would come out.

So he chickened out.

The Girl in the White SUV smiled just as brightly as she had when he last saw her. The Single Guy pushed out her receipt. She had parked a little too far from the drawer and was forced to lean uncomfortably out of her car window to reach the slip of paper. He asked if there was anything else he could do for her, other than find a way to push the drawer out farther. She laughed, even thought the Single Guy knew that his joke was really not that funny.

For the first time in his memory, the Girl in the White SUV waved to the Single Guy as she drove away. In a small way, that one move was energizing to him. It was too late to ask her out today, but maybe next time he would really be ready.

Greatest Hits: Pain

Originally posted on 9/23/2009:

What's your response when someone you love is hurting?


The pain I'm referring to isn't a physical one. It's not as if you just saw your best friend trip over their own feet and skin their knee. If it were me watching that happen, there's a good chance I'd laugh. Sure, I'd ask if they were okay in between chuckles. But a good, non-serious injury is always worth a giggle or two.

Here I'm talking about the kind of pain that isn't on the surface. You can't necessarily see it when you're face to face with your friend. It's not a cut or a bruise that shows up over night. You can't just look at them and ask, "What happened?" The pain I'm referring to is much more subtle.

I'm talking about a pain that comes from psychological and emotional turmoil. In a lot of ways, this sort of pain can cause much more damage and have more far reaching consequences than a broken bone or a deep gash could ever have. And more often than not, when the people we know are in this kind of pain, we never suspect it.

People like to put on a good front. They don't want to burden you with their problems. You might look them in the eyes and assume that everything is just fine, simply because there's a smile resting a few inches below those eyes. But what happens when you're not around anymore? What happens to that person when they go into their bedroom and find themselves alone? What thoughts and memories plague them in the darkness?

Eventually this pain will manifest itself. Signs of stress or depression will begin to emerge in your friend or family member. But what can you do then? I think that depends on the person that's hurting.

I have bad days. There are days when I find myself angry at someone, or maybe just unhappy with the world at large. On those days I like to shut myself down. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to have contact with even my closest friends. I just want to be left alone. If I had it my way, I'd close the blinds so even the daylight couldn't find me. Left to myself, I'd shy away from anything unpleasant, and even the burden of my responsibilities would eventually be more than I could handle.

I thank God that, when I've had those days, I have friends who have reached out to me. I may ignore their good intentions for awhile, but they remain persistent, and eventually I break out of that shell of pity that I build up around myself.

But what happens to the person who becomes ignored by the people they once counted on for love and support? What happens when the people who were thought of as friends and mentors leave a hurting person to fend for themselves? The downward spiral becomes heartbreaking and tragic.

There are a lot of hurting people out there. And there's a good chance that someone you love, one of your closest friends, is one of those pained people. Be perceptive. Be persistent. Be compassionate and be loving. Be patient and be understanding. Inspire hope where hope seems to be lost. You might just be saving a life.

Dinner

Alex drummed his hands on the steering wheel of his ancient Ford Escort as he slowly drove through Alyson's quaint suburban neighborhood. He was nervous, as he usually felt when he was about to see this girl. Yes, he saw her every day at work. Yes, he'd shared lunches with her a few times before. But tonight would be a different animal entirely.

Alex had finally asked Alyson out on a real date. The moments leading up to his asking were agonizing for him. But as soon as he had uttered the words, he felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And it isn't as if he had done anything special to get her attention. He just walked to her cubicle at the end of the day. As she was shutting down her computer, he simply asked her if she'd like to have dinner with him. And she simply said yes, tacking on a smile for added effect. He smiled in reply and then they worked out the details.

And now he was on his way to pick her up. He was nervous all over again. If she had said no, well, he would have gotten over it. But since she said yes, he now felt the pressure of being cool and confident and conversational for the next few hours of his life. Alex had turned the stereo in his car off, opting instead to psych himself up for his date. He reminded himself that she already said yes, so it's not as if he has to impress her. He reminded himself that Alyson, while she may be the girl of his dreams, was still just a person who wanted to be treated with kindness and respect. Alex figured he could do those things.

He pulled into her driveway, turned off his headlights, grabbed the flowers he had bought, and walked up to Alyson's front porch. He rang the doorbell and was greeted by a strange girl wearing a bathrobe and holding a bag of chips. The girl looked blankly at Alex and his flowers.

"Uh..." He wasn't sure if he had the right house. "Is Alyson here?"

The girl turned her head and yelled, "Aly! He's here!" She turned back to Alex and held out her hand. "I'm Tasha, Aly's roommate. You can come in if you want."

Alex shook the roommate's hand and told her it was nice to meet her. In the background he heard Alyson say she would be ready in a few minutes, so he walked into the house and took a seat on the nearby sofa. Judging by the television, he had interrupted Tasha's regular ritual of chips and Ghost Whisperer. He felt a little awkward as Tasha went on pretending he wasn't there, occasionally munching noisily on her chips and salsa.

After what felt like an eternity, Alyson finally emerged from a darkened hallway. Alex may have been hallucinating, but he could have sworn that her entire face lit up when she saw him sitting there. He stood and handed her the bouquet that had been sitting in his lap.

"They're beautiful!" she said, "I'm so sorry it took me so long."

"What are you talking about? I love the Ghost Whisperer," Alex said, trying to be as polite as possible. Tasha, it seemed, didn't even realize a conversation was happening in her midst.

Alyson laughed and looked over at her nearly catatonic roommate. "I'll be back later. No wild parties while I'm gone." Tasha merely rolled her eyes and waved them off. Alyson looked back at Alex and said, "Let's get out of here."

Walking to the car, Alyson apologized for her roommate. "No, I thought she was great. Really into her TV though."

"Yeah, that's the way she's been lately. Really bad break-up about a month ago," said Alyson as Alex opened her car door.

Alex walked around to the driver's side and got in. "I hope you like Chinese. I made reservations for us at P.F. Chang's."

"I love that place. And I'm starving." Alyson just kept on smiling. They drove in silence for a few minutes before she finally said, "I was really glad you asked me out."

Alex was a little shocked at that statement and wasn't sure what to say. He concentrated on the road, making sure not to hit anything or anyone in his sudden elation.

"I mean, I know we see each other every day and I know we've had lunch before, but it's not the same as really getting to know someone."

Alex untied his tongue. "In that case, I'm sorry I didn't ask you out sooner."

Alyson laughed again. He didn't think he had said anything funny, but the sound of her laughter was amazing to him. "It's okay," she said, "just know I've been really looking forward to tonight."

Alex was still nervous about dinner, but suddenly, a great deal of his fears melted away.

Life Story: Chapter Forty Five

I had had a seizure. It's the only reason they allowed me to see my parents. The powers that be believed that my life might be on the line, so they got my parents to Radford as soon as the Corsica they drove could carry them. This was about the time it was decided that the good people at St. Alban's Psychiatric Hospital absolutely couldn't help me anymore.

This was also about the time that my parents were made aware of the pants wetting incident during group therapy. Needless to say, they were upset. They were also upset about the multiple prescriptions that I had been on and suddenly taken off of, just in case those pills were what caused my unexplained seizure.

I think the decision to have me taken home was a mutually agreed upon solution between my folks and the hospital staff. The counselors and doctors decided that there was nothing more they could do with me. I mean for me. They had been so helpful and giving throughout the previous seven weeks anyway. And my parents were pretty angry with their brand of help and treatment. So on January 17th I was given my walking papers.

I was out of the hospital for the first time since Thanksgiving. Nearly two full months were spent inside those padded walls. Okay, they weren't really padded. But the place was full of doctors and therapists that believed they knew everything about everything and could do no wrong. I can't say anything bad about the nurses. They were genuinely kind and actually cared about their patients. And, of course, Hank.

The doctors, well, they thought I was going home to die. They truly believed that I would either be dead within a few short months, or my parents would be forced to send me to a different hospital. Their suggestion was Johns Hopkins. Neither of their scenarios played out. I never went to any other hospital. And, as you can tell, I didn't die.

I went home. I struggled a little. But I got better. It wasn't long until I had the appetite of a normal teenage boy, just eating and trampling everything in sight.

Question of the Week: Next Step

What would you like your next step in this life to be?

 

Well, considering I'm still pretty content with my singlehood and pretty uncontent with my current career, I'd like my next step to be in the field of writing. Preferably, I'd like to become published. I'd kind of like to see a short story published in a magazine or something. I've been able to get a lot of writing done lately, and not just for this blog. It's still something I love to do and would love to turn into a career.

A Blessing and a Curse

You know, any time that I don't have to wake up at 6am in order to shower, shave, and get ready for a 45 minute commute to a job that I don't like is the start of a good day.

Yesterday was one of those days. I'm typically only allowed to work 35 hours a week at the bank. In some ways, this is good. It means that I get a full day off during the week. It's not a bad deal, working two days, then having a day off, two on the weekend. It's nice. And it keeps me from getting so burned out. The downside is that I get five hours fewer per week than I would if I were working one of those full 40 hour work weeks. That's less money on that paycheck.

But it was a day off. I got to sleep late. I got to have breakfast with a couple of friends that have recently come into my life and have already become an important support and encouragement to me. I got to come back home and relax and spend some time actually doing things I wanted to do.

And while all that was well and good, late in the day I received a disturbing text message from my assistant manager. The Girl in the White SUV came by the bank while I wasn't there. The universe is full of good and bad; a constant yin and yang, if you will. But I do work four out of five days each work week. The odds are in my favor that, next time she comes by, I will be there. And I will be waiting to see that smile yet again.

The Smell

There is a foul and unpleasant odor to be found in the hallway outside my apartment. It's been there for a few days now; possibly a couple weeks.

I know the smell isn't coming from my place. I don't smell it 'til I open my door to leave. Believe me, I'd know if this disgusting stench originated in my apartment. It's like a cross between month old garbage and used diapers. When I say used, I mean used of the number two variety.

I'm not pointing fingers, but the culprits seem to be down the hall. Next door, I've noticed several grocery bags that are tied closed that have just been sitting outside my neighbor's door for quite some time. I'm not saying it's them, but it seems suspicious that the smell began around the same time I noticed these bags just sitting there. However, directly across the hall from those bags, the other neighbors seem to have a collection of cardboard boxes that have built up in front of their door over time. I don't know if these boxes are empty or if they contain some horrible waste that creates noxious fumes.

I don't think I'm tooting my own horn when I say that I take my trash out on a regular basis. When the bag is full, I tie it up and carry it down to the dumpster that's so generously provided by the management. That's just how I've assumed things are to be done. That's just how I assumed that all people are supposed to deal with their trash, whether it smells bad or not. So what gives my neighbors the right to leave their garbage sitting outside their doors for weeks at a time? Do they really think that by leaving it there, it will all just magically disappear; that they'll never have to deal with those sights or smells ever again?

Come on neighbors, grow up.

And Now...

I've been in a Deep Thoughts kind of mood lately. I'm sure there will be a lot of readers out there who have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm referring to Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey. Deep Thoughts were a common segment found on Saturday Night Live back in 90s. They're the kind of thing that you either think are hilarious or are stupid. It's definitely a twisted kind of humor. In college, my choir director, Chris Sheppard, had the amazing ability to quote many of the Deep Thoughts verbatim without so much as cracking a smile. The man had a gift. Even now, I read some of them and can't help but crack up at them. I think it's because my overactive imagination puts the images in my head and makes them even funnier. So that's what I'm posting tonight, some of my favorite Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey.

"If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is 'God is crying.' And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is 'Probably because of something you did.'"

"If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason."

"To me, clowns aren't funny. In fact, they're kinda scary. I've wondered where this started, and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad."

"As we were driving, we saw a sign that said 'Watch For Rocks.' Marta said it should read 'Watch For Pretty Rocks.' I told her she should write in her suggestion to the highway department, but she started saying it was a joke--just to get out of writing a simple letter! And I thought I was lazy!"

"If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mister Brave Man, I guess I am a coward."

"The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face."

"If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I'd say Flippy, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong though. It's Hambone."

"Laurie got offended that I used the word 'puke.' But to me, that's what her dinner tasted like."

"I bet one legend that keeps recurring throughout history, in every culture, is the story of Popeye."

And my absolutely favorite...
"One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. 'Oh, no,' I said, 'Disneyland burned down.' He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late."