Banking

I worked as a teller at a bank.  About, oh, a little over 10 years ago.  It was where I wanted to be.  On a spring day, I walked into the manager of the college-town branch and told him I wanted to work there.  I didn't know who he was and he didn't know who I was but he said yes.  Well, he couldn't hire me quite yet 'cuz I wasn't trained and I was going to live with my parents over the summer, so, I went on in to the branch in my hometown and told them I wanted to work there and they said they didn't want to train me if I was going back to school in the fall so I had them call the first manager and, wah-la, it was a done deal and I became a teller at a bank.  

My life as a teller was fairly posh.  I took people's money and I counted money and I gave out money and if there was no money to take or count or give, then I read or visited with fellow co-workers whilst sitting on a stool behind a nice little counter.  Oh, and I answered the phone and sometimes, I got to open the mail and who doesn't like opening mail.  Plus, and also, I got to give out suckers to the kids and doggy snacks to the dogs.  Money and a sucker.  That just makes for a good day all around.

I considered myself to be a stellar teller.  Since learning customer's names was important, I kept a couple stick-it's behind the counter with the names of frequent customers and something I could remember them by so that when they came in to our branch, I could invite them by name to come on down to my teller window.  Then we'd make small chit chat and I'd finish the transaction and they'd be on their friendly way.  

Favorite day was the payday for a large meat-packing company.  The employees would rush us just before closing so that they could get their check's cashed before the weekend.  Lots of customers, lots of cash, lots of fingerprinting and ID checking, and lots of smiles from hardworking folks - many of whom spoke little English, but I loved their smiles and thank yous just the same.

Most of the customers were friends - people I enjoyed seeing and serving.  And then there was Lola.  I kid you not her name was Lola and she was straight out of the song "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. . . " but it was not a favorable getting and we all knew it.  We'd see her heading towards us from down the street and, it was a "dibs not it" for who would get the privilege to help her.   She never had her slips filled out; she always had a lot to do; she was never gracious; she was always rude.  Always.  If it was Lola, you just held your breath and hoped she wouldn't be at your window long - kinda like when you would if you got to help the couple who loved garlic, but at least helping them was pleasant. 

If a customer had a problem or complaint, we tellers, would do our best to help them as long as possible until a "buzz" word was spoken and then we'd get the manager.  I learned "buzz" words could be pretty powerful things in terms of how fast and what kind of service you received.   (Except for Lola.  Lola didn't need a buzz word.  We were more than happy to direct her complaints to higher up.)

Jobs end, but I like to think that I still know the banking business.  It's like I do my mental warmups before going in: smile, have slips filled out, ID ready, smart questions, "buzz" words.  I am living proof that the banking industry has changed faster than I have in the past decade.  I'm pretty sure it was so much less complex back in the day.  And, and, we didn't have fancy machines that spit our money out for us, so we got to count it more. 

I took a couple of checks to the bank to deposit.  My three girls are with me.  It's an errand-running kind of day.  I drove up to the teller drive through and began to fill in my deposit slips and sign my check.  (I always use the drive-up window because (a) I can hide in the car if I come up looking ignorant; (b) I don't have to take all the kids in; (c) I don't have to be prepared; and (d) they give out suckers and if I'm lucky they'll send out an extra one for me.)  I signed the check made out to myself and Dru.  Then I signed Dru's name for him on the other check.  Then I thought about it and figured I may as well sign Dru's name on the joint check as well, even though they were both being deposited into a joint account and no money was being taken out.  It was for a large sum of money and I figured the teller might just check for those signatures.  I connected Dru's "w" and "a" and made sure to put a tiny circle above his "i".  Then I put those checks in the tube and waited for the suckers. 

 "Ma'm?"  

"Yes?"  

"I'm sorry.  The signature on the back of this check for Dru doesn't match the signature we have on record." 

Well, of course it doesn't.  Wait, they checked it against the original?  Crap.  "Yup." 

"We can't deposit this check without his signature, Ma'm." 

Buzz word, buzz word, buzz word.  "Well, it's a joint check going into a joint account so, isn't that ok?" 

"No Ma'm.  He needs to sign it."  Emphasis on the he. 

Shoot.  I'm soooo losing this.  "I'm sending it back to you and you'll need to bring it back another time." 

"Right."  Hot dog.  I didn't want to have to come back again to deposit this check.  My afternoon is ruined in terms of checked to-dos and efficiency.  It's got to get better.   I buzz her again.  "Oh, and can I get 4 suckers? Thank you."  Doesn't get much better than that.