I went to the bank this morning to pick up my new Carte Bleu…. my debit card. You need it to do just about everything here. I’d gotten a notice from the bank that my new one was in, but yesterday I looked and realized that what’s in my wallet is a card that is no good at midnight tonight.
So I got Kaitlyn to school a bit early and endured morning traffic to get downtown. You have to pick up your card in person for security reasons. I’d told the banker I’d be there at 9 when they open to pick up my card… because I have a French lesson 15 minutes away at 9:30. And the rest of my day is booked up so I really had to squeeze this task in.
I got to the bank at 9. Parked the car and walked to the door at about 9:03. You have to get buzzed in to the bank. The woman who answered my buzz was still taking off her coat and her purse was obviously freshly set down on her desk. She let me in, got my card and had me signing the papers swearing I picked it up when my normal banker arrived. So that made it about 9:08. She looked at me in disbelief: Wow. When you say 9, you mean 9! I realize Bill may question my ability to be prompt, but the intention is nearly always there. I can’t believe a business that opens at 9 actually opens somewhere around 9-ish or whenever we actually get here depending on traffic.”
Congratulations! Of course in our household we are always prompt, sitting at our respective desks at 8:59:59. Must be the live TV you and I worked in, where the 6 o’clock news generally starts at 6 o’clock.