Charles Schwab (nudging Grandson like "watch this"): Reservation for 2 for Schwab. Charles Schwab.
Hostess: Alright Mr. Schwab, your table is ready!
Charles Schwab: Ahem. I'm not sure you heard me correctly: Charles Schwab.
Hostess: Uh... yes (checks reservation book) Mr. Schwab. Your table's ready. Right by the window over here.
Charles Schwab: No I'm the Charles Schwab.
Hostess: Riiight. I got that. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Schwab.
[Exit Hostess. Charles Schwab and his Grandson are seated]
Grandson: Why do you have to do that everywhere we go?
Charles Schwab (stewing): That strumpet! I'm the reason she doesn't pay ATM fees - but does she care? No. That's it - I'm shutting down her account. I'm Charles Schwab dammit! CHARLES SCHWAB!
[beat. Grandson looks at Charles Schwab, thinks he's done with his rant]
Grandson: Grandpa, Mom had this thing looked at on her arm, they said it could be cancerou--
Charles Schwab: -- maybe they don't know I'm a real person! They think "Charles Schwab" is some made-up guy like Mister Clean. Gotta talk to marketing about getting my face out there more. First thing Monday.
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