As with most businesses, I see a bank as a place to be exposed to a superabundance of germs. We all know how filthy money is, so maybe a bank is even worse than some other places. My latest visit certainly did nothing to change my opinion.
I had a bit of a wait in line, and that’s never a good thing for germophobes. It gives us time to look over the people we’ll be interacting with. It’s better to walk in and immediately get wrapped up in the transaction. But no, this day I had time to look over the customers standing at four separate windows. At two of the windows, there were couples that had come in together to take care of business. I watched as a man in one of the pairs reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. I abhor that practice. For all I know, there was a hole in his pocket, and the wallet was touching his underwear. The women, too, put their purses up on the counter, and who knows where they had placed them last. The longer I waited, the more anxious I became. I counted the customers ahead of me in line, and I tried to guess which window I would be called to. I didn’t want to go to the one where the man had pulled out his wallet. I found a reason that I didn’t want to go to each of the windows, but I was hoping to get the least offensive one.
For some reason, the original customers at the windows when I walked in were all involved in lengthy transactions, and the wait seemed interminable. This allowed my tension to build, but it was about to go through the roof. The other man who was there as part of a couple had had his arms in front of his body the entire time, but I didn’t think much of it. Then he turned partway around to look behind him, and he was holding a small dog! I wanted to leave, but I needed to stay. I am certain I became visibly distressed. One of the customers at a window left, but there were still people ahead of me. Another one left, and I drew closer to the front of the line. The man with the dog was still there, and it was looking likely that I would be called to that window. I just couldn’t go there; I had to come up with another plan. I decided that I would let someone go ahead of me if it happened. If asked why, I would tell them the truth. I was at the front of the line, and finally a person at another window left, and I was safe, relatively speaking.
But why was the dog there in the first place? I used to see signs posted outside businesses saying that animals were not allowed on the premises, unless they were service animals. That dog was clearly not a service animal. And now that I think of it, I haven’t noticed those signs in a long time. I have seen people with their small dogs in shopping carts in stores recently. I have a friend who saw a woman in a store with a duck in her purse! Why isn’t someone escorting these people and their pets out? It’s unsanitary, and it shouldn’t be allowed. Most important, it’s upsetting to germophobes.