I keep hearing stories of financial distress and resulting stress but we live in a world where grief and anxiety is masked by a public face of ease and optimism so when I see my dog move with determination under a bush, out of the sun and announce in no uncertain terms it's time for a break I feel that we would all do better if we could be so honest.
I was backing into a spot at the bank yesterday, making sure Cheyenne would be in the shade while I dealt with a blemish - a fee not supposed to be charged and rescinded with many apologies which was odd in itself. How often does a bank manager say "sorry"? As I turned in the lot a large SUV came rushing headlong in behind me. I froze. He stopped, almost doing hat motorcyclists call a "stoppie" on his front tires. I backed rapidly into the spot and managed to make a loud "clunk" as my rear bumper hit a log. The manager was walking across the lot as I pulled off my MR Bean imitation.
"Car okay?" he asked as we walked in together. Of course modern plastic bumper actually do absorb bumps so all was well with the car. The other driver appeared to be rushing to make a payment on something, chasing a deadline, haring in to the bank a look of frantic determination on her face. I wondered what the deadline was and I hoped it all worked out but I get the feeling fewer and fewer of us will get the chance in the future to take a break with Cheyenne and just sit under a bush for a while out of the sun. I wonder what it means to be middle class anymore. Simply to be employed is perhaps enough. Time off? Retirement? Health care? Dream on.
I was backing into a spot at the bank yesterday, making sure Cheyenne would be in the shade while I dealt with a blemish - a fee not supposed to be charged and rescinded with many apologies which was odd in itself. How often does a bank manager say "sorry"? As I turned in the lot a large SUV came rushing headlong in behind me. I froze. He stopped, almost doing hat motorcyclists call a "stoppie" on his front tires. I backed rapidly into the spot and managed to make a loud "clunk" as my rear bumper hit a log. The manager was walking across the lot as I pulled off my MR Bean imitation.
"Car okay?" he asked as we walked in together. Of course modern plastic bumper actually do absorb bumps so all was well with the car. The other driver appeared to be rushing to make a payment on something, chasing a deadline, haring in to the bank a look of frantic determination on her face. I wondered what the deadline was and I hoped it all worked out but I get the feeling fewer and fewer of us will get the chance in the future to take a break with Cheyenne and just sit under a bush for a while out of the sun. I wonder what it means to be middle class anymore. Simply to be employed is perhaps enough. Time off? Retirement? Health care? Dream on.
No comments:
Post a Comment