On Pleasant Encounters
The moment I step into the new Chase Bank in our neighborhood the other day I am instinctively drawn toward a small office to the right where sit’s a small dimensioned and mild demeanored bespecled man of African origin.
In my mind he has waited for me all day to pass through the bank’s lobby. His glance fires at me immediately as I come through the doors. Warmly and gracefully a soft “good afternoon” effortlessly dances from his chamber. I follow with a rather unrefined“hello.”
The exchange is mutually pleasurable I think. If not, then this little benign man whose spell I’ve so confidently fallen under is simply a useful tool of commerce or a master of farce.
In my mind he has waited for me all day to pass through the bank’s lobby. His glance fires at me immediately as I come through the doors. Warmly and gracefully a soft “good afternoon” effortlessly dances from his chamber. I follow with a rather unrefined“hello.”
The exchange is mutually pleasurable I think. If not, then this little benign man whose spell I’ve so confidently fallen under is simply a useful tool of commerce or a master of farce.