Post by Trisha Patricks on Nov 12, 2007 23:43:47 GMT
I bite the edge of my lip, ducking unnecessarily from some sort of hedgehog-like instinct as I walk into the intimidatingly big, bright building I had seen so many time on my walks but never had a reason to go into.
Well, now you have a reason. Tom thinks it's safer for you to keep your gold in the bank instead of under your mattress.
All my half-hearted arguments that he wasn't saying much for the scruples of his clientèle hadn't done any good - he still thought I should come here and open up an account. And if I died of terror, well... that would be just a little too overdramatic of me, so hopefully I wouldn't.
I offer a trembling smile to a goblin measuring emeralds, and walk on past, looking frequently over my shoulders and turning in a slow circle, hoping to spot someone who knows what I should do.
'Open an account,' he said, just 'open an account.' Like it's something we're all born just knowing how to do, I mutter in my head, looking around. It was my fault that I hadn't asked him questions, nodded along as if I knew what he was talking about. He kept telling me to not be so afraid to ask him questions, even about things I thought were silly, things that everyone else seemed to do as easily as breathing. He was telling me constantly to not be so afraid... of him or of the customers... of making small mistakes.
But it's really not that simple, Tom. Nothing ever is.
Well, now you have a reason. Tom thinks it's safer for you to keep your gold in the bank instead of under your mattress.
All my half-hearted arguments that he wasn't saying much for the scruples of his clientèle hadn't done any good - he still thought I should come here and open up an account. And if I died of terror, well... that would be just a little too overdramatic of me, so hopefully I wouldn't.
I offer a trembling smile to a goblin measuring emeralds, and walk on past, looking frequently over my shoulders and turning in a slow circle, hoping to spot someone who knows what I should do.
'Open an account,' he said, just 'open an account.' Like it's something we're all born just knowing how to do, I mutter in my head, looking around. It was my fault that I hadn't asked him questions, nodded along as if I knew what he was talking about. He kept telling me to not be so afraid to ask him questions, even about things I thought were silly, things that everyone else seemed to do as easily as breathing. He was telling me constantly to not be so afraid... of him or of the customers... of making small mistakes.
But it's really not that simple, Tom. Nothing ever is.
