How Rude!

A red Mazda, rudely cuts into the traffic that stretches out ahead of me, like a bungy cord. Clearly, the ‘early bird‘ didn’t ‘catch the worm’ this time! A car horn beeps in protest. Soon afterwards, I give a quiet cheer when the offending vehicle is delayed by a school bus pulling back into its lane… traffic lights flash amber to red.

Hah! Too bad! You deserved to miss the lights!

My mind wanders back down through the decades to memories of my younger years, living in Adelaide. A time so long ago… before mobile phones, the Internet and Smart Watches. Unimaginable, to the Youth of today. How did we survive, entertain and occupy ourselves?

A scene flashes into my mind. Incidental, but still clear as a bell.

*

It was 3:30pm on a Friday afternoon. Just half an hour before closing time.

With a sinking heart, I peered through the clear glass window. My open palm pushed firmly on the heavy glass door, allowing the rest of my weary body to follow. The ceiling fans languidly circulated air, redolent of cedar oil and cash, both old and new.

My eyes scanned the room. A quick mental tally settled on a record number of people crammed into the small foyer… unfortunately for us all. Like processionary caterpillars, a line snaked around the room but at a pace even more tedious. With a barely suppressed sigh, I settled in for the duration. The two Bank Tellers serving, looked harried, silently thumbing and counting piles of colourful bank notes. Not a single smile was seen in the entire room, save for the burbling toddler, clinging to her mother’s skirt.

Never one to succumb to boredom, I whipped out a small paperback copy Agatha Christie’s “Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case”. Soon, I was swept up — a world away — to Styles Court, a guest hotel in the country. I watched over Hercule Poirot’s shoulder as he and his sidekick, Hastings hunted a serial murderer.

Sporadically, my concentration was broken by a Teller’s sharp call, “Next please.” One by one, customers exited; rejoined life outside. The remainder of us ‘captives’ shuffled along, ever closer to our goal… Money! Whether relinquishing or gaining it... money was our common focus.

Whilst never fond of waiting, Agatha’s novel kept me reasonably calm and contented. Others stared blankly into space; a few chatted in a desultorily manner while one man in a business suit repeatedly consulted his watch and tapped his polished dress shoe.

Several suspenseful pages along in my novel, I glanced up. Only the young mum and her increasingly restless daughter, now separated me from the next available Teller. Nice!

Again, the door swung inwards. A welcome gust of fresh air ushered in an attractive looking, young guy. We barely paid him heed. Each of us, islands in our own little worlds.

“Next please,” came the much anticipated call. Eagerly, both Mum and child stepped in that direction. A flurry of colourful movement intercepted them. Unabashedly, ‘Joe Cool’ darted up to the Teller’s window.

A collective, audible gasp ricocheted around the previously silent room. Waves of animosity roiled towards the unwelcome interloper. Was it the ten daggers hurled at his back, that prodded him to turn back to us all?

A well practiced smile, attractively lit his sun-bronzed face. Like a Prince to his servants, he tossed us a breezy “Thanks, I’m in a hurry.” Then, we were left staring, flabbergasted at the blue and white Rip Curl logo stretched across his broad back.

“Aren’t we all?” I muttered, in a low tone, destined to fall short of its mark.

*

What a wimp I was back then! However, no more so than the spineless Teller, who traitorously returned his smile… reprimand undelivered. Yet another person susceptible to his charisma and good looks!

*

How unfair! Stunned silence. Warring emotions washed over our faces… annoyance; indignance, frustration, anger. How dare he?

Picking up the negative vibes swirling… the little girl’s patience snapped. She whined and addressed the ‘elephant in the room’.

“Mummy, how come he’s allowed to do that? We get into trouble for that at Playgroup.”

‘Prince Charming’ speedily concluded his transactions and brazenly took his leave. Like a thunder cloud departing, instantly the mood lightened perceptibly.

Right on cue, our attention was snared by, “Next, please.”

Immediately, the youngster brightened up. “That’s us!” she chirped to her careworn mother.

Order was restored.

*

The shrill screech of brakes broke my reverie. A few cars ahead of me, the red car was back in the mix. Pushing it’s pint-sized weight around.

Apparently, some people are slow to learn… or refuse to.

Do they even want to?

*

Written for the challenge below: