It all spends!

Ok...so I work as a teller at a bank. This means I deal with a lot of people who are just withdrawing money from their accounts. If it's a larger sum of money, I usually ask what kind of bills they would like back because some people don't like money that doesn't have a president's face on it. There seems to be an equal amount of people who don't really have any preference as to what kind of money they receive. This doesn't bother me at all, as I just give them whatever is most convenient for me. However, what does bother me is when I ask what kind of bills they would like and they respond with either "It all spends!" or "the green kind!" This happens more than you would expect. First of all, the latter isn't even accurate anymore because newer 50s and 20s have some different colors in them. Second of all, do you really think that's funny or clever? I'm going to start keeping running totals of how often I hear one or the other. I imagine it's up to 10 times a day. I can picture these people going home after work and telling their spouses the latest jokes that have been forwarded to them in an email. The spouse, of course, laughs politely and the culprit goes on thinking he or she is a genuinely funny person. These are the same kind of people who, were they of my generation, would wander around yelling out Dave Chapelle quotes at the top of their lungs. A major factor in humor is unpredictability, people. Yes, there are times when a recycled joke can be funny once more...but those times are relatively rare. Perhaps these folks have low self-esteem and feel the need to be funny on a nonstop basis. And despite not being funny, they get away with it because part of my job is to be friendly and as such, I feel the need to laugh at their pathetic attempts at humor. And this, my friends, is how work is sucking my soul away. I simply cannot be friendly on command and still retain my sanity. It just doesn't work.

And another thing...the branch at which I work happens to be the bank's headquarters. You know what that means? That means that the tellers get to do a whole lot of bitch work. I'm sure the above paragraph would have been a lot longer and angrier, except I just took a half hour or so off from writing it to do some work that was undesirable to the accountants. If I worked at any other branch of this bank, I wouldn't have to do any of that.

Also, no matter how cute you think it is, please, for the love of science, don't name your daughter Princess. I just stumbled across an account belonging to someone with that name. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch. She should kill her parents.

And that's about it.