In the world of banking, the people on the front lines of the industry are known as tellers. These are the people who are expected to help customers with all of their day to day banking needs. It is often a thankless and miserable position to hold. These are their stories. These are their legends…
Today I’ll be discussing one of the bank’s most infamous clients. I may have mentioned her before, but I honestly can’t remember. She’s not exactly infamous in the strictest sense of the word, but she was infamous among our small circle inside our branch. She was in the bank just about every day. And it was like a daily flogging.
She was rude. She was known to, on more than a few occasions, jump ahead of people who were waiting in line to have her deposits taken care of. I’m sorry, but that didn’t fly with me. If I were a customer, I sure would have said something. As it was, the lobby tellers who usually dealt with her were pretty good about holding their tongues and finding a polite way to say she had to wait her turn. But God help the teller that ever told her she had to wait. As rude as she was on a good day, she got down right snarky when it was finally her turn at the window.
She was condescending. I don’t have any examples of specific things she ever said in the past, but just know that she generally made a point to place herself on a pedestal in order to stand head and shoulders above us common folk.
At one point, she broke her foot. She was gone from our lives for over a month. It was a good month. But then, when she returned, she was even more demanding. See, she and her husband owned a few small businesses in the area. So, about twice a week, she would call us to demand boxes of coin for change for these businesses. I say demand. I mean demand. Polite customers asked nicely. She just called and said, “I need!” She wouldn’t even identify herself. She just expected us to recognize that it was her on the phone.
So we would scramble to get the coin together quickly, because she generally showed up about two minutes after she called from the road on the way to the bank. And then, she would get there, act rudely, and demand that someone carry those boxes of coin to her car for her. Now, I could understand doing this for her when she was still wearing one of those air cast things for her foot, but that was a temporary situation for her. When she was walking around without a care in the world, my opinion was that she should carry her own freakin’ coin. She just got us to do it (even after her foot was fully healed) because we allowed her to walk all over us with her perfectly healed foot.
I really had a hard time understanding why management continued to pander to her every whim. But they did. She called every morning to have her account balances faxed to her. When I say every morning, I mean each and every morning. You could set your watch by her predictable phone call. She could easily use the bank’s internet banking option, but then she was afraid the government would be able to see how much money she was making. Hmmm… does that sound shady to anyone else?
Yet we continued to treat her like she was some kind of royalty and she continued to treat us like commoners that she chose to bless with her presence. Jacked up if you ask me.