It’s like a bad scene from the Great Depression, only that I’ll still end up pretty much poor; there I was, asking the bank teller if she can change my P1,000 bill to crisp P50 bills. I would have had it if she’s that cute barista from the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf some months back. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if she’s Chloe McCully from “Kapamilya: Deal or No Deal.” I’ll just sit there and stare.
And yet, I did mind, owing to the fact that the bank was closing up for the day, and that she wouldn’t change my bill to crisp bank notes.
No, I didn’t raise my middle finger and cursed the living hell out of the banking oligarchy, but it did make me wonder why I have six nieces and 10 nephews. I didn’t attend a single baptism of my brood by proxy because:
- I get nervous and twitchy whenever I enter a church.
- I’m usually busy when I get called up to attend a baptism.
- Every baby I have ever seen wailed like a banshee because they saw me.
- Many of my relatives and friends think that I’m a bad omen.
Nephews and nieces by proxy means that I have to give aguinaldo by proxy. While I do think that aguinaldo is extortion, it’s erring on the side of hypocrisy; after all, when I was young and jobless, I was on the receiving end of ampaw and money shoved into my hand on Christmas morning. It gives me a fuller and better appreciation and understanding of money shoved into my bank account every payday, with every cent literally evaporating.
