While running errands the other day I dropped by the very small Wells Fargo on College Blvd. It's about the size of a single-wide trailer, though more square. Since it was 95°outside, I decided waiting in the lobby would be more comfortable than sitting in a hot car at the drive-through.
The room was packed with people who had apparently had the same idea. Not only were there people waiting in line for tellers, but also several groups of people waiting to see the people behind desks, too. There were so many people, in fact, that I had to ask who was in line and who wasn't. An elderly woman was sitting in a chair by the door and I didn't want to cut in front of her in case she was resting but still in line. There was a tall man in typical grungy Alaskan Man clothes, looking sweaty and uncomfortable and whose personal space seemed to require six feet from any other person. I suspect he didn't come into town very often. He looked alarmed when I asked if he was in line. If he'd been a car waiting at a stoplight, he would have had six car lengths between him and the car ahead of him. He moved up in line, closing some of that distance, but very, very reluctantly.
Enter the drunk lady. Native, short and spunky, and talk-yelling so that you just couldn't miss her, even if you didn't smell her first. However she wasn't a street person. She smelled like booze, though. The first thing she did was walk straight up to some people quietly chatting in Spanish and waiting to see the desk banker. She got right in their faces and yelled, "WHY DON'T YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? WHY DO YOU COME HERE AND NOT SPEAK ENGLISH! I SPEAK ENGLISH. ALL THESE DUMB IMMIGRANTS, COMING HERE AND THEY DON'T LEARN THE LANGUAGE!"
Mr. Bush Tall Guy turned, looked and turned his back. Drunk Lady came forward right behind me. I looked at them and mouthed "Lo siento!" They were startled, but looked glad at least someone said something to them. I was the only one to speak to them.
"SEE! I SPEAK ENGLISH! I CAN SPEAK MY LANGUAGE TOO!" at which point she said something in Athabascan just as loudly as everything else. I was about to say "I hope you said something nice," when she yelled. "I JUST SAID 'HURRY UP! THOSE GIRLS NEED TO HURRY UP! HURRY UP!"
At this point I wondered if she wanted them to hurry up because she was going to throw up. That was something I really didn't want to deal with. Also, I was shocked that the bank did nothing about her racist rant.
A man tried to, calm her. "Where are you from?" "MINTO!" "What's your name?" "MY NAME'S CHARLENE!" (At least I thought that's what she said, it could have been Charlotte, too.)
Drunk Lady was waving her bank card and crumpled check around and yelling, "HURRY UP! HURRY UP!" about every 30 seconds. I turned to her and said, "Do you think they like that? Don't you think that makes them feel bad?"
She stopped dead for a moment. Her face became solemn. Then she got her drunk jollity back for a minute and said, "OH, I am joking! THEY KNOW I'M JOKING WITH THEM! I ALWAYS JOKE WITH THEM!"
Funny thing though, because after that exchange she stopped yelling and all her grinning went away. She still had periodic outbursts but she quieted down a little.
When I got up to the teller, I told her that 1. I was concerned that the bank had done nothing for the Spanish-speaking family that had been verbally assaulted with hate speech, and that 2. cashing the check for Drunk Lady wasn't doing her a favor, as in her condition, she'd probably continue her bender. The teller asked if the rant had occurred in the lobby, or outside. I assured her it was IN the lobby, and that I thought someone from the bank should have escorted her out, and apologized to the family offended. She replied that they were so busy that no one noticed all this going on. Never mind I'd seen all four tellers heads jerk up every time Drunk Lady yelled "HURRY UP!" Plus, in the lobby, or on the sidewalk, all of that is Wells Fargo property.
It was quite disturbing. I shall be going back to that branch to talk to a manager about the entire episode. One other thing: it amazes me that there was only one man, and myself, who were unafraid to talk to her. She's probably a very nice lady when she isn't on a bender. She wasn't a street person, she was just someone who messed up, bigtime! That doesn't mean there shouldn't be some consequences for her behavior, though.
