unforgettable- that's what i am

this older woman brings her father into the bank. he's close to one hundred, and the woman is quick to complain about how he's getting senile, how he doesn't remember anything anymore. i'm opening a certificate for the old guy, and when i come back from making the deposit, the woman is telling her father, "don't be silly, dad. this isn't lenscrafters, it's the bank."

"what's going on?" i ask, my ears perking up as i am a former employee of the aforementioned optical.

the woman waves her hand dismissively. "my dad seems to think you're the girl who works at lenscrafters."

the old man speaks up, his voice low and raspy. "she is the same girl. i remember. at lenscrafters, she helped me."

"i used to work there," i tell them, nodding. i name the location i used to work at, and the old man says, mildly irritated, "i KNOW. that's where you helped me. remember?"

"amazing," the woman marvels, patting her father on the knee. then, suddenly bitter, she adds, "you know, he doesn't remember who i am half the time, his own flesh and blood. how can he recognize the eyeglass salesgirl from eight months ago? in-freaking-credible."

"i know," i agree, fluffing out my hair. then the old man's eyes glaze over, and he wonders aloud if we used to serve gyros.

"this is a bank," i inform him. "we don't make gyros." the conversation continues for a moment as i reassure him that we never made gyros, or hot dogs for that matter, but i am happy to explain this. how flattering, to know that my legacy from the optical world still lives on, even in those that are losing their minds.