Updating a story previously reported here first (well, and only here, really, since — well — it’s about me…), I went ahead and asked out the hot bank teller girl who chatted me up and who messed up my check order.

And she totally shut me down.

Apparently she is just really chatty/friendly/flirty and maybe slips up at her job from time to time. As for the rejection, she was really nice about it, if it matters (does it matter?) (she is pretty hot; maybe she has a lot of practice leading dudes on only to let them down nicely?). The official reason given was that she had a boyfriend (more on that later…).


I did my best to recall as many of the details about this story as possible, but I was nervous as all get-out so my memory of it may be closer to 90 percent than my usual 99 percent. Plus, I’m tired right now, which may knock it down to about 85 to 87-ish percent. I didn’t get a chance to recount it all earlier while it was fresher, but I have to write this now since I’ll be out of town (again) until mid next week…


Okay, so I go into the bank today to bring my checks back and get them re-ordered.

Almost immediately upon walking in to the bank, which was void of customers at the time, the lovely teller lass, Rachel, greets me with a cheerful “Hey, there, how are you?”

She obviously remembered and recognized me, chatting me up a few steps in the door all the way to her counter.

“Oh, I’m good. How about you?”

“I’m good. So did you get those checks?”

“Yeah, but I think I might need new ones; there was a mistake on these…”

I said it with a sort of “Hey, it happens shrug,” as if it weren’t her fault (even though it was). Any annoyance I had with getting a screwed up check order flew out the window when I saw her today. Today she was dressed up way more than the last time I saw her… her attire today put her usual lovely lass-ness way over the top; I pretty much had to force myself to remember what I was even doing there.

I presented the checks to her, pointed out the error, and she went about getting a supervisor to help her get the re-order started.

The supervisor (who was actually the teller lady who had assisted said lovely teller lass Rachel in ordering the checks the previous time I was in) couldn’t remember the initial check order. Lovely teller lass Rachel, explaining the initial order, completely remembered not only the style of check off-hand, but also that the computers at the bank had went down while I was there before.

Her remembering the whole instance off the top of her head had me feeling pretty good about my chances.

So fast forward to the end, when lovely teller lass Rachel came back my way with the paperwork I needed to initial. The bank had filled up by this point, there was a line set back a little from the counter area, and there were people at the counter to my right being helped by a teller there.

But then, the exact moment lovely teller lass Rachel started back my way with the aforementioned paperwork, the adjacent teller motioned the people to my right all the way down the counter area to the far left. It created a sort of public privacy pocket, where if I used the absolute correct indoor voice, I could ask lovely teller lass Rachel out with no one being the wiser.

I had kinda played out in my mind what I’d say, but now that the absolute perfect opportunity opened up, I had to act on it, even if I wasn’t completely ready.

(As a quick aside: Ladies I don’t think some you appreciate how difficult it is for some of us guys to ask you out. Especially if you’re the slightest bit attractive or if we have any sort of interest at all. It’s one of the most nerve-wracking ordeals we can put ourselves through. If you do recognize this fact, please don’t exploit it or take it for granted.)

((I’m not really sure who that’s addressed to, and I’m not sure lovely teller lass Rachel didn’t appreciate it. It’s more just an FYI for everyone. But, for my part, the whole nerve-wracking thing was totally in effect at the moment.))

So, lovely teller lass Rachel, completely leaning in and forward — and even joking with me a little — as she’s explaining the initialing process and as I go ahead and initial the paperwork, takes my paperwork.

Trying to stall and gather my thoughts as much as I could, I asked her for a statement of my transactions for the last month.

Then, as she’s printing that out, something clicked in my mind: my brain realized the mission, knew the clock was ticking down, and just went ahead without me really being ready beyond my lead-in:

“Hey, I was also curious…”


(Sort of nonchalantly, as though she were expecting another bank question.)

“…would you wanna go grab lunch or dinner or something sometime?”

(Best I can remember, I hit the perfect indoor voice for the public privacy pocket, my voice wasn’t wobbly, and I wasn’t shaking. Of course, I was devoting pretty much all my energy and brain resources to staying composed as I managed those words, so my teeth may have been chattering and my voice may have cracked like a high school kid for all I can remember. Seriously, though, the words that popped into my head may have sucked, but I think I said them as right as I could.)

Her reaction confused the crap outta me:


It was her tone.

The whole question element of it, which accounted for somewhere around 70 percent of how she said the word, felt like the kind of yeah…? a girl says when you’re in her ear sayin’ stuff and she’s leading you on to keep sayin’ stuff. Kinda like an “Oh, really?” Another 20 percent of it felt like a matter-of-fact “Yeah,” as if to indicate an affirmative on her part. But the last 10 percent of it carried the Bill Lumberg Office Space “Yy-eah…” before he asks you to work Saturday. Even the smallest percentage of the Lumberg “yeah” is too much, and thus not good.

We had both been smiling most of the time we were interacting after she came back with the paperwork. Only my expression broke a little here, because I was perplexed.

A slight grin remained on my face (because I made it stay there), but I raised my eyebrow.

She didn’t break her smile, although it turned a shade flattered-looking. Probably more politely so than disappointedly so.

“I would if I didn’t have a boyfriend.”

(I may have blushed out of embarrassment here; I’m not sure. A second later she added…)


I apologized here, but I’m not sure what words I actually used. I think it may have been, “Oh, I’m sorry.” Whatever I said, I tried to convey it in an I-didn’t-know / I-don’t-want-to-step-on-anyone’s-toes sort of way.

Her: “Oh, no. Thanks.”

Still smiling. Both of us.

(I think my smile now was probably sort of mixture between a carryover smile from our interaction, a “Well, I gave it my best shot” smile, and a “Thank you kindly for not destroying me with your rejection” type smile.)

On one hand, she seemed genuinely flattered and didn’t come across like she was blowing me off with the boyfriend thing. But isn’t that what girls do? Dismiss unwanted approaches by saying they have a boyfriend even when they don’t? But then, sometimes might they actually have a boyfriend? Or if girls are interested but do have a boyfriend, will they just ignore that and schedule plans anyway? (I mean, I did go out with an engaged woman before…) Or do most still have integrity? This is part of why this is so nerve-wracking; it can be pretty hard to figure out what’s really going on.

In any case, the whole thing went down in such a way that I don’t think I’d feel embarrassed to go back in and deal with her. Not to ask her out again, of course. Whether she’d be as chatty and friendly as she has is up to how she took this whole thing. We’ll see…

Anyway, she asked if everything was good on my statement. I replied that it was.

Then, as nicely and thankingly as possible, she wished me a good weekend. I thanked her for the gesture, wished her a good weekend as well, and I was on my way.

Oh well.

Rejection sucks. But at least now she’s a girl I did holler at, rather than one I shoulda hollered at.