Anxious People(11)
LONDON: They’re perverted commas. You’re writing this down, right, so I want you to use perverted commas when I do that, so anyone reading your notes will get that I’m being ironic. Otherwise anyone reading this is going to think I’m a complete moron!
JACK: They’re called inverted commas.
LONDON: Is there an echo in here or something?
JACK: I was just telling you what they’re called.
LONDON: I was just telling you what they’re called!
JACK: That’s not what I sound like.
LONDON: That’s not what I sound like!
JACK: I’m going to have to ask you to take this more seriously. Can you tell me about the robbery?
LONDON: Look, it wasn’t even a robbery. We’re a cashless bank, okay?
JACK: Please, just tell me what happened.
LONDON: Did you put that my name is London? Or have you just put “witness”? I want you to use my name, in case this ends up online and I get famous.
JACK: This isn’t going to end up online.
LONDON: Everything ends up online.
JACK: I’ll make sure I use your name.
LONDON: Sick.
JACK: Sorry?
LONDON: “Sick.” Don’t you know what “sick” means? It means good, okay?
JACK: I know what it means. I just didn’t hear what you said.
LONDON: I just didn’t hear what you saaaid…
JACK: How old are you?
LONDON: How old are you?
JACK: I’m asking because you seem quite young to be working in a bank.
LONDON: I’m twenty. And I’m, like, only a temp, because no one else wanted to work the day before New Year’s Eve. I’m going to study to be a bartender.
JACK: I didn’t know you needed to study to do that.
LONDON: It’s tougher than being a cop, anyway.
JACK: Of course it is. Can you tell me about the robbery now, please?
LONDON: God, could you be any more annoying? Okay, I’ll tell you about the “robbery”…
15
It was a day completely devoid of weather. During some weeks in winter in the central part of Scandinavia the sky doesn’t seem to bother even attempting to impress us, it greets us with the color of newspaper in a puddle, and dawn leaves behind it a fog as if someone has been setting fire to ghosts. It was, in other words, a bad day for an apartment viewing, because no one wants to live anywhere at all in weather like that. On top of that, it was also the day before New Year’s Eve, and what sort of lunatic holds a viewing on a day like that? It was even a bad day for a bank robbery, although, in defense of the weather, that was more the fault of the bank robber.
But if we’re being picky, it wasn’t by definition even a bank robbery. Which isn’t to say that the bank robber didn’t fully intend to be a bank robber, because that was very much the intention, it’s just that the bank robber failed to pick a bank that contained any cash. Which probably has to be considered one of the main prerequisites for a bank robbery.
But this wasn’t necessarily the bank robber’s fault. It was society’s. Not that society was responsible for the social injustices that led the bank robber onto a path of crime (which society may well in fact be responsible for, but that’s completely irrelevant right now), but because in recent years society has turned into a place where nothing is named according to what it is anymore. There was a time when a bank was a bank. But now there are evidently “cashless” banks, banks without any money, which is surely something of a travesty? It’s hardly surprising that people get confused and society is going to the dogs when it’s full of caffeine-free coffee, gluten-free bread, alcohol-free beer.
So the bank robber who failed to be a bank robber stepped into the bank that was barely a bank, and declared the purpose of the visit fairly clearly with the help of the pistol. But behind the counter sat a twenty-year-old, London, deeply immersed in the sort of social media that dismantles a person’s social competence to the extent that when she caught sight of the bank robber she instinctively exclaimed: “Are you some kind of joke, or what?” (The fact that she didn’t phrase her question as “Is this some kind of joke?” but went straight for “Are you a joke?” perhaps says a lot about the younger generation’s lack of respect for older bank robbers.) The bank robber shot her a disappointed-dad look, waved the pistol, and pushed over a note which said: “This is a robbery! Give me 6,500 kronor!”
London’s entire face frowned and she snorted: “Six thousand five hundred? You haven’t left off a couple of zeroes? Anyway, this is a cashless bank, and are you really going to try to rob a cashless bank, or what? Are you, like, totally stupid?”
Somewhat taken aback, the bank robber coughed and mumbled something inaudible. London threw her arms out and asked: “Is that a real pistol? Like, a really real pistol? Because I saw a television show where a guy wasn’t found guilty of armed robbery because he didn’t use a real pistol!”
By this point in the conversation, the bank robber was starting to feel very old, especially since the twenty-year-old on the other side of the conversation gave the impression that she was around fourteen years old. Which of course she wasn’t, but the bank robber was thirty-nine, and had therefore reached an age where there’s suddenly very little difference between fourteen and twenty. That’s what makes a person feel old.