I went to the drive up service of my bank yesterday. Since my kids and I were in a different neighborhood than our own, I used a branch I haven’t been to before. We loved speculating where the vacuum tube went and looking at the video screen which was our link to the teller. I deposited some checks and asked for some cash out of my account. (I have to be able to pay my kiddos for the screen time bucks they turn in to me.)
I used the back of a receipt to write down the denominations of cash I wanted then, as I always do at my other branch, I wrote down “and three treats, please,” followed by a smiley face. (Not four since my boy wasn’t with us.)
My kids get a sucker or roll of smarties if and only if they don’t fight or drive me crazy while we are waiting. I have actually kept the treats for myself before. This time, though my kids were sort of loud, they still earned their treats and stared excitedly at the canister coming down the transparent tube of treasure.
I opened up the container, dumped it out and saw– in addition to my cash, ID and receipt–these:
I looked at them for a long time. I sniffed them and confirmed my first thought. Yep, these are doggie treats, alright. With three people behind me in line, I didn’t feel like I should take the time to trade them in. I wasn’t sure if they even had other “treats”.
I know my kids can sometimes act like animals, but I’m not quite sure how the teller thought I had three dogs in my vehicle and wanted doggie yummies. To my knowledge, none of my children were barking while I was talking to her. Maybe one was wagging her “tail” out the window; I’ll never know. But for whatever reason, that branch of my bank has gone to the dogs.