Hello, and happy Easter! Today, a lesson learned about the kind of people available to work over the long weekend.
I walked into town yesterday, because we needed (a) groceries and (b) beer, which I gave up for lent. Because I don't have enough Canadian ID to open a bank account yet, I'm still using English bank card. The cheapest way for me to do this is to draw out a lot of cash and then use that, rather than being charged for each individual transaction.
So my first stop was at the bank. I had never tried to withdraw money from the National Bank before, and was a little surprised when the ATM told me that it could not help me and that I needed to speak to a representative to get my money out. I went to the front desk and explained what I was trying to do. It quickly became apparent that the teller I was dealing with had never been in this situation before and was also unable to access my money, despite what the auto-bank had told me. Instead, I asked where the next nearest bank was located. "Just up the road," she told me. I then asked how long it would take on foot, because I don't drive yet. A look of horror crossed her face. People don't really walk here. "On foot?!? Ohhhhhh, well that'll be about ten minutes if you're on foot."
"Nooo! More like fifteen on foot!" A jerked my head over my shoulder. The woman behind me in the queue had decided mine was a conversation worth having, and wanted to put her two cents in. I didn't think it was all that interesting, but I was clearly in the minority. "But where does he live? Doesn't he drive?" Asked the woman. "It's an English card, but he doesn't drive," explained the bank teller. Obviously it was easier to eject me from the conversation altogether. It's not like it was anything to do with me, anyway. The ladies decided, at length, that my best option was to head in the other direction, and there would be a bank about five or ten minutes down the road. "Good luck!" the teller called after me. Understandable. After all, I did end up walking for a full three minutes before I found that other bank.
And so, cash in wallet, I stopped at the Beer Store to pick up something nice for Easter lunch. When I got to the front of the line, I ordered a four-pack of Alexander Keith's. The girl behind the counter told me that, because it was the long weekend, they were all out of fours. "OK, well then give me six," I replied. It would be a little heavier, I thought, but I didn't have too far to walk. I paid my money and then watched as six individual beers came down the conveyor belt. All I wanted to say was, "Why couldn't you have sold me four of those, instead of making me pay for six?", but instead I chalked it up to experience, collected my six one-packs of beer and left. After all, I honestly don't mind being up-sold on beer.
Would this have happened on a normal day? Perhaps not. It's more fun this way, anyway.