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I find talking to bank tellers excruciatingly awkward. Especially when you are going to college and all of the tellers are-- you guessed it, cute guys, also going to college. And I swear, these bank tellers take a long time.
"So what are you doing this week?"
"Er... Finals." ...Isn't that what everyone is doing?
"So you're a student, then?" No, I'm a professor. No, I'm a mom with eight kids. No, I'm an alien.
"Awesome. How many finals do you have left?"
"Oh, awesome. What are you going to do to celebrate?"
"Go home. And enjoy Christmas." Read: Go home, get out of your company, and eat cookies.
"Great. Where's home?"
And here I must explain: This is where I lied to the bank teller. I did not want to explain to him that I live in town. Plus I'm going to Disneyland over break. And I was dead tired. Ok, enough excuses. I felt sassy and it spilled out before I could do anything. I stood there flailing in the face of the word that escaped my mouth.
"Wow, really? What part?"
*Cough* "Northern. San Jose."
"Oh. I'm from San Diego."
"So did you open up your account there or here?"
Uh, yes. That's what he said. And as he said it... he smiled. Wryly. What a log of poop. He knows I lied. And he is staring at me like I lied... to flirt. And anyone who knows me... knows I don't flirt. Especially not with random bank tellers. I probably looked like I could spit venom, so he shut up quick, and gave me a receipt.
"Have a good day!"
Yeah, whatever. I probably won't be going to the bank for a while.