Yesterday after cleaning stalls and working with horses all morning I received some checks in the mail. I ran down to the bank to deposit them. This was going to be my only stop so I didn’t get all cleaned up. I had had a hat on my head all morning so my hair was squished down. I was wearing old barn clothes. I ran into the bank to deposit the checks. When I handed the checks to the teller she had a sharp intake of breath and said, “You’re Heather? You’re HIS wife.” I forgot that the husband has the status of a rock star at this bank. It started about 6 or 7 years ago. This bank used to be on the same floor as the husband’s company. On the second floor of a downtown office building always seems like a strange location for a bank to me. At this time the husband’s business was just him and his partner and they weren’t always busy. The husband spent a lot of time talking to the ladies from the bank. Probably swiping free candy too. They love him.

A few years ago the bank moved to a free standing location on the other side of town. If the husband needs anything from the bank (except, unfortunately, large gifts of money) he just goes in there and says hi and the ladies fall all over him. I like the guy enough to spend my life with him but even I do not have the same level of devotion to his happiness that these ladies do.

So here I am in the bank with women clustering over to see me. This happened to me once before when I had to get something notarized. They don’t normally do it there but they saw the paper I needed done with my name on it and suddenly they couldn’t be more helpful. These people knew all about me.

Teller: So, you’re a vet.
Me: Yes
Teller: I see your deposits in the ATM and they always say ‘To Dr. Heather” on the checks.

She proceeds to tell me about the husband saying that I should have been a surgeon if I was going to go to school that long and that I only work a few days a week. How much time does he spend at the bank? Or do they just have very good memories?

We discussed her dog that was spayed yesterday and other things. I mentioned that the husband gets upset when they send me statements showing that I added up my ATM deposits wrong because he reminds me that he ‘knows those people’ and they will think badly of him. They assured me that they could never think badly of him and then entertained me with stories of people doing stupid things at ATMs.

After I got home I called the husband to relate the story.

Him: So you looked awful.
Me: Yep. I probably smelled too.
Him: Well, at least you gave them all hope that they still have a chance with me.

I might be worried if they all weren’t his type at all. He somehow just charms random women in his life. He’s actually come home from trips with love notes written by five year olds (or very illiterate 30 year olds) sitting two rows behind him on the plane. Luckily I seem to be immune to him enough to be able to bring him back to earth.