Two Birds, One Stone

When I was at the bank, waiting for the deposit to be processed, I noticed that the teller behind the counter seemed young. He was an Asian man and he wore dark slacks and a blazer to match. I don’t know that I could work in a bank. Getting dressed up everyday would be dreadful. I noticed that he had a small golden Buddha sitting up on his counter. It was the Chinese style Buddha with the big belly. I wanted to tell him that I liked his figurine. Instead, I kept quiet. The transaction was taking a little longer than usual. He apologized for the wait.

“No problem. Could I also get some more deposit slips?”

“Sure, I need some myself. I’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

I coil inside at the words. The image is violent to me and though it suits the situation, I still have trouble with this common expression. I want to say something, but what? Finally, I say,

“It would be nice if there was a different way of saying that, No?” He smiles.

“I’ll be right back with those deposit slips.”

I look at the Buddha. Then I set my eyes to the counter and wait patiently with my hands atop the counter, fingers folded together. He comes back, hands me the deposit slips, and receipt.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

I quickly steal a glance of the Buddha one more time.

“That’s it, thanks.”

I walk out the door and the best that I can come up with is changing “Kill” to “Live.”