I accompanied a friend to the Wells Fargo near MainPlace this past Saturday when I noticed that SanTana Mayor Don Papi Pulido strolled up to a teller's window and proclaimed his account number for everyone to hear. I'm not exaggerating--I was a good 10 feet away from the diminutive man with the booming voice, and what originally caught my attention wasn't that it was Don Papi Pulido but that some moron was yelling out his account number. Didn't anybody ever teach the Papi that one shouldn't be revealing vitals to the public, that one shouldn't follow the lead of that guy who owns the company that says they'll protect you from identity theft, and he gives out his Social Security number on radio commercials? Either Don Papi Pulido is arrogant as hell, or he's plain dumb. I say both.
I digress. He starts making small talk with the cute teller--Thanksgiving plans, the like. Nothing flirtatious, just small talk. LOUD small talk. Dad's here, sister's there, who cares? We're now standing five feet from each other. I think about asking why he never returns my calls, but it's a nice Saturday and I want to go read. I finish a transaction with another teller, a young, portly Latino. Once I leave, Don Papi Pulido tries to talk with the guy. "So what are you going to do for Thanksgiving," the leader of SanTana asked. "Eat?"
He says this last word in a sotto voice, much more sotto than usual, in a tone that mocks more than asks. The poor teller is flustered and just smiles. Don Papi Pulido must've learned his humor from the Busty Bustamante School of Silliness...
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