It's a Mad Mad World

So let's see if I can make you understand.

A friend of mine wrote a check to me for $16. I’ve had it in my purse for three weeks. Today, I’m stopped at a red light in front of American Gigantic Bank (AGB), the sixteen dollar check bank, so I whip in their drive-thru. But the teller will not cash the check in the drive-thru because I am not an account holder here. “But there is no one else in line and the check is FROM this bank. The person who wrote it banks here. I’m your customer by default.” The teller, giddy with power, smiles and chirps “Don’t forget to bring in two forms of identification.” In my head, I squish her like a bug*. In real life, I pull into a parking space.

Inside the deserted bank, the very same teller turns from her window and steps to the counter to greet me as if I were brand new. I look around to see if I’m being punk’d, then hand over the check, lay out my voluminous IDs. Enough security for a $16 transaction, you might think. But you’d be wrong. The teller snaps open a black ink pad and instructs me to leave a thumbprint at the top of the check. As though my plan is to rob the place of sixteen small bills.

Back in the car, after being refused a copy of my mug shot, I’m feeling a little deflated, a tad unimportant. I’m hunched over the wheel in the loser pose of the powerless. Aha. I recognize this momentary depression.

It’s the same hollowness I get when I’m on the other end of the phone line from Gigantic Telecom Conglomerate Bastids (GTCB). Once again begging my internet/phone/satellite service to correct my ninth consecutive month of overbilling. Last time I called, I’m ashamed to say I wept a little, keening into the vacuum can someone, anyone please please help me? I might as well speak in tongues.

And we wonder why people pop pills or shoot each other at the Post Office. I don't have to tell you it's disheartening to be shuffled along, to be waited upon by customer service folks with eyes glazing over, to struggle against the vast machines of Mega-ness that we’ve created. This disconnect is killing us.

So I’m begging you people to wake up! Go out of your way to lift up your neighbors, your tellers, your drive-thru hamburger-slingers. Engage your grocery cashier. Tip your waiter. Roll up your Grandma’s garbage can. Pass your bottled water to those guys working on that hot pavement. Brake for squirrels. Smile on your brother.

But most of all, please understand that you matter. That every single thing you do matters. The enthusiasm with which you brush your teeth, your passion for Elvis, the number of car lengths in front of you. Every. Thing. Any motion you make is a rock skipping out to the world. Dear Reader, make it count.

*Peta: I do not squish bugs in real life.