No one hangs out at a Western Union. They are the employees behind the thick plate-glass windows and the customers fighting with the numbers in their heads. The lucky one the latter are receiving cash from a friend or family member. The rest are paying bills or sending money to friends or family members more down on their luck than you. I have been on both sides of this equation. A recipient in Thailand and a donor in the USA. Over the past two years I’ve been to Western Unions in Florida, New York, Missouri, Minnesota, Iowa, and even one time in St. Petersburg. My purpose in those visits was to send money to my two families in Thailand.
Regardless of location Western Unions have one thing in common.
All the pens have been brutalized by the patrons.
These mostly Bic pens are chained to the wall and look as if a pit bull tried to liberate them with their teeth to do lines of cocaine. I’ve asked the workers about these mutilated pens. None of them can explain the phenomena. I’ve watched as other customers have filled out their forms. They write like normal people, but obviously some clients grab the pen with their fists and scrawl with a destructive rage.
To be truthful I’m glad that I’ve never met this Western Union customer.
I imagine them to be 6-10 and 450 pounds.
My fantasy scribbler is probably the opposite.
5 foot tall and 90 pounds.
It’s always the small ones who are most scary.