“Busy today,” he said.
“Yep, lots of people,” I said. Keep it simple I thought and I’ll be out of here in no time.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. The government gets all our money. We don’t have a say,” he said.
Holy crap. One of these guys?
He went on, “They just take our money without us having a say at all.”
If I’m quiet, maybe he’d go away.
“Can’t way for judgement day. Can’t wait til the good Lord destroys this world and takes us to another,” he said as if someone tossed some gas onto his fire.
“Well I can,” I said. “I’ll still got shit I want to do in this world.” Perhaps if he realized I was not “one of him” the conversation could fade away.
“Not me,” he said proudly. “No kids, no wife, nothing to keep me here. Hope God comes soon.”
This is a guy who’s not even in the game and he wants to walk on the field, take the baseball, and go home. How does a man get to his age and have so little he can’t wait for the end of the world? Don’t get me wrong, I know there are people like this in the world. I picture them at home drinking from a gin bottle, not standing next to me at an ATM.
The audacity of the man to say the whole world should come to an end because he has nothing but contempt for government and the rest of society. I wanted to tell him to get in the game. It’s okay, God wants him to have passion about something, anything. I wanted to squeeze my words in, but he resolutely kept stating the end his near eternal damnation was imminent.
Lucky for me the line moved. Engagement over. He was right. This end was near. I transacted my business with the cold, impartial machine, and my pulse quickly returned to normal. I walked back to my truck thinking how lucky we are that gentleman is not in charge.