It turns out my youngest son doesn’t know how to use the telephone. Or more accurately, he doesn’t know how to use the phone as a phone…in order to talk to another human in real time. He’s totally comfortable using the phone to take pictures, send texts, bring up a website, route a navigational path, ask a question to siri, record a video, play a game, tell a joke, roll die, illuminate his surroundings, check the weather, research coral reefs, and buy a plushie in memory of Technoblade.
He just has no clue how to talk to someone not visibly present with nothing but his voice. The wife and I chalked this up to a necessary life skill we had failed to instruct our children to adequately perform. Much to our youngest son’s chagrin, we forced him to have an extremely awkward telephone conversation with his kindly, elder piano teacher who was extremely gracious despite his total ineptitude.
After this little episode, the wife and I had an animated “discussion” about a couple other things that may or may not qualify as “overlooked yet necessary life skills.” We had no idea the concept of talking to a teller at a bank would end up being a wedge between us, but there you have it. You may be able to guess, but if not, allow me to clarify my stance; I landed on the “what’s a bank” side of the debate while the wife thought bank teller etiquette to be quite indispensable (perhaps indispensable is a bit heavy).
I don’t know about you, but when I look toward my sons’ futures there are a few things I’m pretty sure they won’t ever need to understand. The meaning of that little flag thing on the side of a mailbox for example. Mailbox? (I can already hear some of you ask.) I’m not saying it is as antiquated as an ice pick…but we’re halfway there. By the way, I asked my youngest son what an ice pick was the other day, and he responded, “Isn’t that the thing mountain climbers use to dig into the ice?” I nodded. “Yes, son. Yes it is.” Why burden him with any other response? (Well, I did mention that most people call it an ice axe.)
How about the “take a penny, leave a penny tray?” Not really a thing. At this point the only people who carry cash are pan handlers and my dad, right? (All you pan handlers, leave my dad alone for goodness sakes!) So why do I need to teach my kids how to physically walk inside a bank and talk to a teller? The last thing they need is more candy anyway. (Do banks still give out candy?)
I mean, I vaguely remember my parents teaching me how to fill out a deposit slip/withdrawal slip. Like a schmuck I did this for several years before I figured out you could just hand the teller your bank card and ID to have them fill out the slip for you! Such a burden lifted off my shoulders. Granted I do still have to write a check or two every year. Being able to write “Two hundred and thirty-six dollars and 32/100” in cursive comes in extremely handy those two times a year. I don’t write in cursive at any other time, but still, it sure does save my bacon when it comes to check writing.
These days, I don’t even bother with the bank. I find my local bank less cheery than the liquor store. Actually, I find the employees at my local liquor store to be quite jovial and knowledgeable. (Not at all like SLC where liquor stores were intentionally modeled after juvenile detention centers crossed with homeless shelters. If there were ever too many functioning overhead lights someone had to climb up a short ladder and jab at a fixture with a broom handle until one of the florescent tubes began to flicker.)
All this to say, “the bank? Bah!” Although I did take the opportunity to give a short lecture to my sons on the FDIC and how when everything hits the fan they might want to ensure their diverse portfolio includes some basic “apocalyptic assets.” You know, some skills you don’t need a smartphone to perform. At this, both my sons shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Oh well. I guess when the apocalypse comes, I’m heading to my parents’ house.
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