04.12.05

Scenes from today:

At the bank; original building built in the late 60s/early 70s. Very little has been spent making it up-to-date. Mostly paint. The old, wall clock (missing its hands) is on the wall. Attempts have been made to insert digital clocks into counters not made to accept such indignitites. The floor is linoleum, textured to resemble something not entirely unlike travertine marble. In front of each teller window, the linoleum has worn smooth from 30 to 40 years of impatient customers.

On the way to Tora: Almost knocked off my pins by a little, old lady. She stood about 4' tall, and had a plastic rain bonnet over her recently-coiffed bouffant. (It was good enough in 1967, it's good enough now.) She clutched a folding grocery basket--the kind with wheels and beloved by little, old ladies everywhere--and that steadied her deliberate, careful pace. Her polyester pants were bright red. Ferrari red. What startled me was her expression. She looked pissed off. I don't mean irked; I mean deep, down to the marrow, pissed off. I bet even her mitochondria were grumpy.

Did my self-review today. Of course I've got to do this when I've been feeling fed-up with myself. Ach. This evening I've got the actual review, and there's a store meeting. I do believe I heard the phrase "team meeting" but I will claim a privilege of age and pretend I didn't.

Time to go psych myself up.

Go. Be fabulous. (Okay, that one's more for me.)

Back one. ||||| Forward one.