Instead we had a record player that frequently crackled out Little Marcy Bible stories, Psalty adventures, and the Music Machine.
(frightening!)
We were THAT family.
It's okay though, I have no shame in being able to sing "whir whir chick-a chick-a bonk bonk hiss".*
This is how we learned our Bible stories and life lessons, one of the big ones being the Fruit of the Spirit.
("But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law." - Galations 5:22-23)
Every once in a while, that ONE person comes into my life that tests all of these fruits. Last year you may recall it was HPV-Dave. When I was in high school it was Corin. Now it is the co-worker that has been at National City for over a year.
I have the sneaking suspicion that she is illiterate. I am not exaggerating here. I don't think she can read.
English is her second language, so I can't really expect her to know all of the ins and outs of our very confusing vernacular. I don't call her out on it when she forgets to use "the" or "a", or when she asks me the difference between the name Doug and the word Dog.
She tries my patience in the exact same way that the infamous Dave did. Unfortunately I don't have Luke there to complain about it to, so it kind of sticks with me. I really think that simple aspects of being a bank teller go above her head.
She asks me how to run transactions she should have learned in the first month of being on the job. Due to my consistent decline in helpfulness, she has resorted to asking the "new guy" how to do things. What is most unfortunate about the whole situation is that none of us really have the patience to teach her things like selling traveler's checks, redeeming savings bonds, or finding the payoff amount on a loan.
Our conversion to a completely new operating system is going to destroy her ...or me. I am sure that I will be the one that has to explain all of the changes to her, despite the recent fifteen hours she spent in the National City classroom learning all about the new procedures.
Blegh, I used to love helping people. I mean come on, I took care of dementia patients for two years. This girl has turned me into a complete bitch, and I'm not quite comfortable enough with that to revel in it.
Secretly I am hoping that the conversion will weed her out. There is a good chance that she will be a teller for the next ten years. I hope and pray that doesn't happen to me.
*Actually I have much shame about this. Let's not talk about the Music Machine again, okay?