MY DAD CAN BEAT UP YOUR DAD!

By Ross Frank DiMarco III, rfdimar@pointpark.edu

“Tello Real, please don’t add anything sexual, my Aunt’s going to read this.� – Ross Frank DiMarco III

Hello all! I’m sure you have all missed me so much that when you saw I wrote an article this week your bladder uncontrollably leaked out a drop or two of urine. Anyways, first, I want to apologize for my absence. Do I have to explain myself to you people? The answer is quite simple: No.

I’m sure you are all waiting to see which two combatants will square off this week. Well, you are going to have to wait some more because I am not in the mood for violence. All of this turmoil happening in the Middle East makes me sad, and since Tello Real’s people are in the middle of a war (yes ladies, he is half Jewish), I figured I would write about a rivalry that I possess.

As you may well know, I live in Pittsburgh and I am currently attending graduate school at Point Park University. However, in addition, I also hold a part-time job at PNC Bank. You may be thinking to yourself, “that seems pretty cool, I’m sure PNC employees receive free tickets to Pirates games because the stadium bears the name.� Well, I’m here to tell you we don’t. Nevertheless, the customers I see everyday are my biggest Rivals. Let me give you some insight as to why.

You know what really grinds my gears the most? The first of the month. For it is that day when the elderly make their monthly trip to the bank to collect their Social Security. Unfortunately, I am the “lucky� bastard that has to deal with all their shenanigans. I sit at my teller window (commence laughing) and adhere to every single demand they bark at me.

First off, I find it amazing that most of them still have the ability to see over the wheel of their ’79 Buick. I fear for the lives of every man, woman and child when they leave their house. They limp up the stairs and immediately march over to me. They try to talk, but due to the lack of oxygen in their lungs, they usually can only mutter a word or two as they try and catch their breath.

While they are huffing and puffing, I catch a whiff of the 20 or 30 cigarettes they smoked that morning. By now, I can probably tell you which brand of cigarettes a person smokes simply by smelling their clothes. The stench of stale cigarettes and cat urine fill the 12-inch radius that surrounds their bodies.

Once they are one with the air again, they complain about having to walk up the stairs. Maybe if they cut cigarettes out of their McDonald’s breakfast diet, they would be able to take a flight of stairs like a normal human being.

Their brown-stained teeth beam with pride when they present me with the Social Security check. They stare at it with their 6-inch thick goggles and politely slide it under the toothpick prison bars that supposedly protect me from robbers. Here is where the real fun begins.

I guess I must resemble Dr. Phil because elderly people see me as a person who actually wants to listen to their troubles with society. As I try to gasp for some quickly evaporating clean air, they recall the good old days when bank tellers wore ties. Sometimes, when I’m really lucky, they talk about how expensive coffee is now and when they used to get a cup for a nickel.

They lean as close as they can to the computer screen so they can see the magical view I witness every second I am at the bank. My face slowly turns purple due to the breaths I can no longer take.

Then they hear the words they’ve been longing for, “How do you want your money back?� For some odd reason, old people want every type of currency that isn’t in my drawer. Usually, they ask for $2 dollar bills. “It’s for the grandchildren,� they say. But I know what it’s for - to make my life more difficult. I give them their money with a smile on my face, but with a sense of emptiness in my stomach. Why? Because I know they are about to get into that Buick and drive back home.

So, there it is…My Rivalry. Not every customer is like the one I just described, but those are the majority. Anyway, sorry about my little rant, but since this is a rivalry website, I thought I should be allowed to vent.

I want to give a couple quick shout outs to the three family members (that’s right, only THREE) that read my articles. Thank you to my cousins, Joe and Tia, and to my Aunt Kathy for encouraging me to keep writing. Also, thanks to Bruce Bobak and his store, Definitely You (call 412-885-1191 for all your Steelers gear) for his help in supporting Rivalfish. Lastly, thanks to WDVE 102.5 for recognizing Rivalfish on their morning radio show. I have no idea how they found out about us, but who cares? Free publicity is better than no publicity.