RUTH

When Ruth appeared at the bank doors each month, all my sister tellers suddenly feigned being busy. They all knew I would wait on anyone regardless of their pleasantness and they were quite content to let me. Also, I had the window closest to the door.

Ruth, regardless of weather, was always dressed in a mid-weight, long black coat, a flowered neck scarf and black gloves. This was Florida folks and this outfit was worn for all seasons. She never appeared either hot or cold. Her gray hair was pulled into an extremely tight bun that looked almost painful. It was so tight that it had to have performed a mini face lift.

She wore glasses but I am sure they needed upgrading by the way her make up was applied. She had enough rouge on her cheeks to embarrass a clown and her lipstick wandered off her lip line.

As she would approach my window, her smell arrived first. Now she did not have armpit or an unclean under ware smell, but instead smelled musty like an old house that had been shut up for a long time or perhaps like the oldest book in the library. There was a strong desire to sneeze when around her.

She had gotten use to my window being the only beckoning one and usually would head straight for me unless I was actually busy. Our conversation never varied. I would ask her how she was today and her terse reply was. “Well, I woke up this morning so I guess I'm good.” Any other questions or attempts at conversation were met with head nods or shaking. She was not terribly verbal.

So I would smile and she would lay her light bill on the counter. At that time, we collected light and phone bills for the various utility companies which helped the senior population.

Ruth would slide the bill towards me with out further comment. Of course this was years ago but even then she had a minuscule light bill. She must have only had one light bulb, a hot plate and a small refrigerator for her bill was usually well under ten dollars.

Ruth carried a small, well worn black change purse with a snap closure. I would tell her the amount and she would proceed to pull the wrinkled money very slowly out of the purse. A five, a dollars, a half dollar, some quarters, a lot of pennies. These she produced very slowly as she brought them forth one at a time.

Finally, she would empty the contents, shake it to prove there was no more and sigh loudly as if the whole procedure was an exhausting chore. I would count the change, knowing it was not going to be enough. Usually she would be anywhere from a dollar and a half to two dollars short .

When she first started coming in, we tried to tell her that she was not giving us enough money but she would tear up and wring her hands helplessly saying that was all she had.

Feeling just awful, we would always cave and tell her it would be all right, that we had made a mistake and she had just the right amount. After that, we just accepted what ever amount she gave us. Old lady tears are just too painful to watch.

Now, acting as if she had paid the right amount, she waited for me to stamp her bill “paid” and send her on her way, which I always did. I would then write the deficit amount down and would pay it myself later. My head teller knew the routine and would watch me make up the difference in my drawer after closing.

I was not the only teller who did this but I definitely did it the most often. We were all pretty much reluctant Ruth helpers. This went on for a couple of years.

Each Christmas she would bring in the smallest and cheapest box of chocolates available to be shared by all of us girls. Though we worried how she could afford even that small amount, we pretended like it was a box of the finest Swiss chocolates.

One month I was saddened when she did not show up and instead a man saying he was her son presented her light bill. He said his mother had passed and he wanted to thank us for taking care of her. She had evidently had mentioned us to him in good terms. I was more than a bit pleased that she had noticed. Quietly she passed from our lives.

Then a few weeks later, one of the girls came in from lunch all excited. She was waving the local paper and saying,”You are not going to believe this.”

The news story was that her son, wanting to sell our little Ruth's home , was having it renovated. When the contractor removed the tattered wall board, they discovered a little over $36,000, tucked into the walls (in those days, that was a ton of money).

She evidently poked holes in the drywall and dropped the money into the holes , then covered the holes with pictures. No telling how long it took her to amass that amount of money. It had to have taken many years of depriving herself. Our two dollar contributions wouldn't have made a dent.

At first that news story had us grumbling that "no good deed goes unpunished." Eventually though we saw the humor of how that little old lady had totally hoodwinked us. I am pretty sure that even if we had known of her unorthodox wall safe, we probably still would have helped pay her light bill.

As bleak as her life was because she denied herself of most of life's comforts and pleasures, that once a month game she played on us didn't really hurt us and it must have given her some pleasure. In addition it gave her a couple extra dollars to tuck into the wall each month.

Yes, we had all been conned by that little old lady, but we had to admit that she had made us all feel quite good about ourselves whenever she left our windows each month. Pretty sure we got our two bucks worth in self esteem.