About Bank: “Hola, linda”

11 Oct

There is something very Madmen-esque about being a bank teller, even in this day and age. Men, usually middle-aged men, though I don’t want to discriminate (of course I do!!) seem to enjoy coming inside the bank versus using the ATM so they can stare at the young girl behind the counter who is shelling out money to them. When it’s put that way I guess it’s hard to see what’s not to like, but I digress…And on top of the staring most men don’t see any problem with flirting with any teller with a pulse and they often border on the intense and the inappropriate. It’s an ego boost, don’t get me wrong, but after working at a bank for six months in a neighborhood full of creepers I’ve had my fill of unsolicited male attention for at least a year or so.

Among my admirers is Rodrigo**, who graced me with his presence today. Oh joy. The notorious lech and sleaze comes in a few times a week and he only speaks Spanish (fyi I speak conversational Spanish and I was hired as a “bilingual” bank teller).

From the moment I met Rodrigo (well, maybe not the “moment” because when we met the first time he was with his wife…) he has tried to seduce and/or sell me something every time we’ve come into contact with one another. Whenever he comes to see me he opens with, “hola, linda!” (linda means pretty for those who don’t know) and then he looks me up and down, studying my form to the point where by now I’m sure he could chisel a statue of me out of alabaster and pick my boobs out of a line up (if they ever committed a crime of there own accord, sneaky bastards…).

The worst is when I look up from counting his money and catch him mumbling to himself ,”oh, mami, oh wow, que linda, oh wow…” And though he see’s me catch him he does not stop. GROSS.

As I do with all my customers, the day he asked me if I was married I said, ” No, pero tengo un novio.” (no, but I have a boyfriend [ass-hole]) Though I don’t. It’s just a little fib that helps me if people like Rodrigo over-step the boundaries.

He obviously didn’t seem to think my imaginary boyfriend was serious enough to keep him from mercilessly flirting with me. His grand plan, however, was to introduce me to his son, who he believed I would immediately fall in love with a marry (and yes, he said those very words to me). About a month or so ago he had asked for my phone number but I said I wasn’t allowed to give it out to customers so he asked for an e-mail address instead. I gave him a fake one. He came in a few weeks later saying it didn’t work so I gave him the fake one again saying, “that’s weird, try this one.”

Today, unable to reach me any other way, he brought his son in to meet me. Blessings.

He greeted me with his typical, “hola, linda!” and instead of mumbling to himself about me he made all of his normal comments to his son, out loud, in a language he knows I understand. This is a translation of what Rodrigo said to Rodrigo Jr.** (and yes, he made one comment after another without getting a response from his son):

Hola, linda!

This is my son!

I brought him in to meet you.

His name is Rodrigo Jr.

Look at how beautiful she is!

Her name is Tootsie Woo. ##

Tell her how beautiful she is!

…..

He’s embarrassed.

I looked up to see the extreme blush on Rodrigo Jr.’s face and felt so uncomfortable for the both of us. I had been hoping this would just be a meeting for me and Rodrigo Jr…but no. Before they left Rodrigo the elder put down a piece of scrap paper asking me to write down my number so his incredible catch of a son could call me later. What was I supposed to do!? I had told him I had a boyfriend. I had told him I wasn’t allowed to give my number to customers. I had given him a fake e-mail address! TWICE. My first thought was to give him my brother’s number to set him off the trail but then I was afraid he would bother him while he was at school. My second thought was to give him a fake number, ANY fake number but realized Rodrigo would always come back to ask again for the real one. So I panicked and did something stupid. I gave him my REAL number. Ay dios mio.

I can only hope his son is as lazy and unaccomplished as his mother says he is (that’s right, his mother!) and that calling me will join the ranks of “getting a job,” another task he hasn’t completed. And if he does call I can always tell him I’m a female impersonator…that might do the trick.

##obviously not my real name

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