SUZAN writes…


Photo credit:  Google.com

I rested my elbow on the wooden slab two feet from where I was standing. My feet were beginning to drag. It was like two blocks of cement were tied to my ankles; they felt really heavy. My stylish jacket was already off my shoulders and tied to my cross bag. My face was squeezed and my previous light mood had switched to a frustrated one.
I should be used to these; bank services are always, (yes always) frustrating and can push a gentle soul’s nerve to the last point.
Moreover, that morning was different. it was beyond the ordinary, the customer service was faulty and the network reception was malfunctioning. I already believed nothing could change my present mood – when I realised I was the last person on the queue to be attended to.
But my comic relief; the comic relief for this write up arrived at the right time. A bald man in his late forties, he had a face that didn’t require him making funny faces before he had to look funny. He was in a pair of brown sandals and held a pouch with him, carefully placing it on the wooden slab where I was leaning on.
He spoke to the bank representative in charge with mellowed respect but still had a tone of seriousness and demand. I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to him complain about his bank account charges and he didn’t take no for an answer, he listened to the representative explain few things to him and he made sure he was fully attended to before anyone else.
He wasn’t funny because he spoke comedic words. He was funny because he walked in with a sort of command that wasn’t condescending.
I didn’t know why he was funny to me, perhaps the situation was messing with my judgement. The heat wave was disorienting.
He was old but he wasn’t conscious of it, he carried himself with so much youthful exuberance.
He was my comic relief; a comic relief I needed when I was at my slowest of the slow moods.
As I watched him thank the representative and walked away, I smiled as he placed his pouch beneath his left armpit and avoided anyone’s body contact.
As he left, I glanced at the queue and concluded that day was the worst experience I had had in a bank.
But not totally the worst, because weirdly, the funny old man – my comic relief became my muse.
I pulled out my phone and began to type.
They are times when it seems like there is really nothing that could put a smile on our face. I have been there, trust me.
I feel I don’t have to type a long blog post before I can make out my point. So the simple message from your truly to set you on the right track this week is this:
Just keep an open mind,  you won’t be sad for ever. Yes, life can be very messy and situations can turn your perfectly gay day into a long bad day.
But trust me, always remember even a bad day has only twenty four hours in it. Relax, smile and don’t allow that ugly situation drag you down.
Have a lovely week!


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