WotD: withdraw

1. abheben
2. opnemen
3. retirar
4. retirar
5. retirer
6. esblygu
7. tarraing as
8. wyciągać
9. 인출하다 (引出하다)
10. 提款 tí​kuǎn​

Notes: I didn't have my debit card with me today, so I stopped in at my bank before lunch to make a withdrawal. For some reason, there were no deposit and withdrawal slips in the stack, only resguardos de depósito y retiro. Only one teller looked Hispanic, but I figured if the Midwestern blonds working alongside him couldn't decipher the form, they'd ask for help. Of course, to notice it was in Spanish, they'd actually have to read it and this was not my teller's strong suit. She made a frowny face and asked me to spell my name again. I did, and then added: "Try it under 'von'."

As I discovered later, she didn't; she tried it under "Bond" even though "von" was right there on the form. Then she asked me for my debit card. Of course, if I'd had that with me, I wouldn't've been talking to her, would I've? "Can't you look it up with my Social?" I asked. "We can, but we prefer not to ask a customer for that if we don't need to." "But it's on the form. I filled it out." Cue bafflement, and a yelled inquiry to a coworker.

What will happen when you go in for your cardiac stress test at IHV

• You will arrive right behind a visiting tech from BlueStar. He will be so supremely woofy that you will try to see how close behind him you can stand without being really obvious about it.
• After he is waved into the office, you will continue to stand there for at least a minute because none of the receptionists is looking in your direction and anyone who might have been paying attention mistook your for part of the BlueStar team.
• When a receptionist finally does notice you and you tell her about your appointment, you will discover that you have been entred in the schedule under "Patient, Patient" rather than your actual name.
• You will ask the receptionist where you can get a drink of water and she will bring you a cupful because a clinic that regularly makes people take stress tests on treadmills does not have a water fountain or cooler.
• You will take a seat strategically across from the hunky proletarian daddy you spotted when you came in and steal glances at him at ever opportunity over the next twenty minutes. (If you are a straight man, you will have no idea why you are doing this, but you will keep it up all the same.)
• You will be called back by a sonogram technician, who will lead you to a room with various large apparati in it and ask you to take your shirt off.
• While you are sitting there with your shirt off, the office manager will poke her head in and ask your permission to show the visiting technicians in to examine the apparati. After you agree, you will consider for a moment making a joke about how it would be only fair to ask Woofy Bear to remove his shirt as well so you're both equal but will think better of it.
• After they leave, the sonogram technician will affix some disks to your chest and put you through a serious of mildly uncomfortable poses while she presses a lubricant-coated roller to your side and examines flickering lights on a screen at the very edge of your vision. (Even though this is the most amazing lube you've ever felt on your skin, don't bother asking for the brand name because it's some medical specialty product and outrageous even by the already-inflated standards of quality personal lubricants.)
• This will continue for far longer that you expect until finally two other women come into the room. One will begin tapping away at the console attached to the treadmill while the other directs her.
• Console-tapping woman will come over to you and rub your chest with emery board in strategic spots while you beg her not to take out any of the chest hairs you spent so long acquiring. Then she will stick on another half-dozen discs and begin attaching ingenious alligator clips to them according to a numbered sequence.
• The sonogram technician will return for another tedious round of soundings. She will ask you periodically to "breathe out" and "breathe in". Eventually, you will figure out that "breathe out" really means "stop breathing" and that any direction she gives you will be repeated every two seconds until you comply.
• When it comes time to get on the treadmill, all three women will cluster around you, each grabbing a different set of cables and each simultaneously giving you different directions on what to do and where to turn. (Even if you are a straight man, you will not find this in the least bit erotic.)
• Once the treadmill starts, all three women will begin critiquing your treadmill technique. You will inform them--half in jest, full in earnest--that you think you can manage not to fall off a treadmill.
• Despite the awkwardness of exercising shirtless in a roomful of strangers all checking in with you every few seconds to make sure you aren't about to keel over from exertion, you will manage to make small talk up through the point where the real-time display of your blood pressure turns red.
• When you finally decide you've had enough, they will rush you to the gurney and you'll get to repeat those tedious soundings with breathing interruption on command again only this time while desperately gulping for air.
• You will ask if there's someplace you can clean up and be directed to a bathroom sink, since a clinic that regularly makes people take stress tests on treadmills does not have a shower.
• As you leave, you will notice that everyone in the waiting room is not only older than you but significantly heavier as well, and also that Hunky Daddy is still there in the same chair. You will resist an urge to take up your old seat for a while just to see what else wanders in.