WORST WAYS TO HEAR ‘NO’


Today I’ve happened to visit one of the banks. It was placed in the ground floor of a multi-storied building. It looked very crowded as I pushed its door. I have never done anything like this before; by anything I meant ‘money deposit’. I noticed that the depositors queue was seemingly increasing, so, I was afraid to have spent my complete afternoon in the bank in the long awaited queue for my turn to commence. Overtly, everyone was busy with his or her own queries on the floor. My only backer to whom I could ask my inane questions was the doorman. After knowing which pay-in slip to fill, what to and how to, I was on a hunt for a pen. And then I met some of the living legends during the unsuccessful attempts I’ve made to borrow a pen.
Please follow through the conversations.

Sukhi:"uncle1 konchem pen istaaraa?" (Please, let your pen to me for a while, in Telugu)
Uncle1: "*&#@$%^" (I could not understand what he uttered)
Sukhi: "uncle2 pen milegaa?"
Uncle2: "Sorry, I am leaving."
Sukhi: "uncle3 may I have your pen for a sec?"
Uncle3: "It is not writing. Sorry."
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Those uncles for not giving a pen irritated me. I went up to the stationery to buy a new one in the first floor with my number in that queue at stake. But I had no option. It was then I realized the importance of carrying a pen when you visit such places. My energy was completely sapped by the time I was at the counter. I was given the counter slip after deposit, which looked like a permission letter to go home.
While I was on my way I saw those legends once again.
Uncle1 was quarreling with one of the staff members. I wish if I were that person, I had closed his account from my bank.
Uncle2 was still there and looked very relaxed as if he was there for a lifetime picnic. I wish I could kick his ass for once.
And the ultimate view was looking at Uncle3, who was signing some series of papers with the same pen.
Ultimately, I wish I could pull out gun from the doorman’s clutch and fire at those inutile uncle1-2-3.

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