Okay, I’m back, I promise this time. No, that’s not quite enough… I pinky promise I’m back this time. I am officially a certified bank teller. I know, spotlights on me, I am strutting around town like a local D- list celebrity but for me, this is a big transition. I am actually in a position where I am using my oh so fabled degree. Finance for those of you who are new or were too busy to read my previous stories.
So I recently ran a poll where I asked my fabulous Twitter fan base what they wanted to know about working in a bank.
As you can see the results are pretty overwhelming. For the most part, people were curious about the weirdest thing I have seen so far. Oh, and I am making 36k a year without factoring in bonuses.
A bit of a disclaimer first, this did not happen to me, but I watched on as it happened to a colleague of mine.
We had a “client,” which basically the fancy word for customer comes into our branch mid-afternoon on a somewhat rainy day. The branch had been pretty slow and I was working in the drive through, but from my position, I could see the entire lobby. A dolled up woman maybe in her mid-thirties came in. She had a very nice designer purse and was dressed in pretty much my entire student loan debt. She was clearly a woman of wealth and had a severe case of “I’m better than you peasant” face.
There were two people waiting by the podium in the center of the lobby where most people fill out their deposit or withdraw slips and this bitch had the nerve to walk right past them look my coworker into the eyes and demanded with a deep back of the throat thrust “Kelp” The woman had a very thick eastern European accent. By this point, she had my full fly on the wall attention. Let’s call her Red, like from OINB. Red reaches into her half luggage half purse and starts pulling out stacks of checks, and cash. I don’t mean large amounts of cash in small denominations. No, this wannabe Ivanka starts pulling out multiple fresh crisp stacks of $10,000 in hundreds still with the bank strap around the bills.
She ended up having more in cash than most people’s mortgages in my zip code. That was just the cash, factor in the checks which she wanted to deposit into her husbands “business” account and immediately red flags are flying faster than Kremlin ICBM’s. They had so many accounts that my colleague had to actually scroll down to find the account she was wanting the checks in. My boss ends up having to go over and get information from her such as occupation and where the cash came from. Red initially refused to answer any questions but eventually told my boss that her husband “is business man” she refused to elaborate, but we ended up taking the entire deposit.
Because this was such unusual circumstances it was taking my colleague longer than normal to finish up, and I had already helped the other clients that were formerly at the podium waiting I ended up just kind of listening from afar. Comrade Red ended up telling my really sweet and innocent older coworker that she was a dog and needed to move faster or she would meet her business man husband.
Just when I thought things were about to get heated with this rich Russian bitch this big burly pass as a damn body builder that could deadlift a fucking car dude steps in; all tatted up on his sleeves and around his collar looking like a straight up OG from those old school Russian gangster mob movies during the Regan administration. He yelled across the lobby to “hurry the fuck up.” As much as I hate seeing any women spoken to like that, this was the type of guy you don’t fuck around with. This is the type of dude to pick you up and throw you across the room like an Olympic jousting competition.
So me being the sensible new kid on the block at the banking center, I decided to stay the fuck out of it and hope to god there is an old school FBI surveillance van posing as a flower delivery close by with coms linked to a swat team should Mr. Hulk Smash decide to actually come all the way in.
When all was said and done after she left, my boss looked over at me and he must have seen the obviously visible “I’m about to shit my pants, what the fuck just happened” look on my face and said oh don’t worry about that, we usually get clients like that at least once a week!
I have to admit I really enjoyed sharing this. I was afraid that leaving retail behind meant I was leaving behind a great source of stories and content. Although after settling in with my new job, I can see now that the stories never end, the location may change, but in the end, I am still working with #DearCustomer
Na Zdorovie (На здоровье) friends,
(Photo of woman from aboutthemafia.com) FAIR USE