Yesterday, I stopped in at the bank that I always patronize and got in line behind a new teller. As I was waiting, I tallied up the checks that I wanted to deposit and didn't realize that it was suddenly my turn. The teller must have said something, as I noticed her gazing at me with a puzzled expression.
Most of the time, I will offer an explanation to people with a simple, "I didn't hear what you said. I'm deaf."
But yesterday wasn't a nicey-nice day. I was in a hurry to head out of the bank and cranky as heck. I was craving some chocolate Sno Caps to stave off the major PMS symptoms that were gnawing at me. Or perhaps some Fannie May... Or Godiva chocolate...
New Teller Gal asked me a question and I thought she asked me how I wanted my money. "Twenties would be fine." I responded. She actually laughed and repeated her original question, which turned out to be, "Do you have any ID?"
Any other day, I would have explained, "I'm deaf," but yesterday, the PMS beast inside of me growled. "I've been a customer for almost ten years and I've submitted a check deposit slip with my name and address on it. My purse is in the car and the hubby is waiting outside. Can you process this without ID?"
Apparently my speech isn't crystal clear. She gazed at me and suddenly asked, "Are you sick?"
There were several other customers behind me. Ahem, is this the kind of question you ask customers? I quickly debated whether I was going to give her an explanation.
No dearie. What you hear is a result of several years of speech therapy and diminished hearing. Very diminished hearing, my dear. As in deaf.
Hmmm, I could add a little more nasality on the end and finish the sentence with a florish...
I could sit back and watch her take a few IQ points off if I miss any more questions that she fires off...
Instead, I smile sweetly and say, "Oh yeah, I have a nasty cold."
And I remember to wipe my nose just before I hand her the pen back.