Bank Tellers
I have newfound respect for all Bank Tellers. Those people are saints.
Story time!
I leave the apartment at 5 to 9 this morning, slightly earlier than usual. I figure I'll swing by the bank as it opens, deposit my paycheck, and then get gas and go to work. I get to the bank and find that there's already a bit of a line. No worries, though, it'll move fast, I'm sure.
Wrong.
Each and every individual in front of me was a crazy bastard that made me weep for the aforementioned bank tellers. The particular teller in question was this cute little redheaded woman that was such a trooper that by the end of this endeavor, I wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything would be alright. What would prompt this? Let's find out:
1. Idiot hispanic woman. Now, granted, I'm kind of an asshole for holding against people the fact that they don't speak English when in this country. I realize this reflects poorly on me in some people's eyes. I also don't give a crap. That said, this woman really takes the cake. Most non-english-speakers can at least understand English fairly well, even if they can't speak it back to you. Not this one. She had two friends with her to translate. Two friends who clearly were not mentally equipped to be translators. Fortunately, there was another banker who did apparently speak fluent spanish. However, I don't think she was a teller, because she wasn't really behind the desk that much. Instead, she would occasionally get called over to offer assistance when Redhead couldn't get idiot hispanic woman (IHW) to understand. Now, granted, her not speaking English does not necessarily make her an idiot. That came later. The woman has an ATM card, and Redhead asks her to swipe it. The woman does not know how to swipe it. The woman. Does not. Know how. To swipe it. What. The fuck. It's a goddamn ATM card. The instruction is depicted on the damn number pad. There is only one side with the magnetic stripe!
Finally, Redhead managed to muddle through enough that IHW seemed satisfied. Then we go to...
2. Crazy old polish woman. I don't actually know if she was polish. She was short, wide-faced, small-eyed, gray-haired, and spoke with some kind of accent I couldn't place. I chose polish because she reminded me of a WW2 movie. She asked the teller for four hundred dollars and seven in quarters. Now, analyze that statement. It's even money as to whether she means $407 total, with 400 in bills and 7 in quarters, or whether she means $400 total, with 7 of them in quarters. Redhead guessed the latter. COPW seemed okay with this, and walked off. #3 (I'll get to this guy in a minute) approaches, and COPW comes back asking why she has $3 in bills. Redhead, trying to be polite, says that was her change, and 10-7 is 3. COPW then says she wanted $400, and then a separate $7 in quarters. Was she seriously going to get uppity about $7? She might've, had she not asked, "Well, that money is still in my account, right?" This just made my brain fail. No, the money vanished! Where the fuck else would it be?!
3. Asshole. There's really no better way to describe him. Asshole approaches and Redhead, fresh from dealing with IHW and COPW, says, "Welcome to Bank of America!" in as cheerful a voice as possible. Asshole looks up at her. "Wha?" "Good morning!" she replies brightly. "Oh," he says, and looks back down. Jerk. Could at least greet her back. This is where the story gets slightly disjointed because the events of #4 now take place, and then I get called over to do my transaction. However, as I'm doing my transaction, the rest of #3 happens. Apparently, whatever Asshole is doing requires him to swipe his card. He does so, but apparently it doesn't work, so Redhead asks him to swipe it again. He does so, and I guess it fails another time. The translator woman from before comes over to assist, and that's when this guy gets ornery. She tells him his card appears to not be working, and he goes nuts. "Well, it usually works! It only has a problem sometimes! You people give me a defective card! I should just go to a different bank!" All this crap to these poor tellers because his fucking card doesn't work. Chill out, guy.
4. Creepy Vietnamese Dude. Again, I don't know that this guy was actually Vietnamese. I'm not sure what the hell he was. He seemed very vaguely asian, but that may not have been the case at all. I just don't know. This guy's story actually starts before #1, as I'm filling out my deposit slip. He seems to go stand in line, but looks around very jumpily. He looks over my shoulder at what I'm writing (which creeps me out to no end), and continues acting really squirrly. He was in a tall winter hat and a trench coat, and I half-suspected he was there to rob the place (in which case I would've promptly bound his arms from my place behind him in line and knocked him to the ground -- those tellers had dealt with enough that day). But he wasn't, and eventually he gets up to the teller. And he asks for $405. Yes, $405. Not $400, $405. What the hell. Who asks for four hundred...and five dollars? "I want $400...and a penny!" This just made my head hurt all the more.
Sadly, Redhead was still dealing with Asshole, so I couldn't be a refreshing change of pace for her. Regardless, when I did get called down to the next teller, and she said, "Good morning, welcome to Bank of America!" I replied, "Good morning, and thank you!" as cheerfully as possible. I then said, "I'm just here to deposit a check."
Fucksake, those people are heroes.
Story time!
I leave the apartment at 5 to 9 this morning, slightly earlier than usual. I figure I'll swing by the bank as it opens, deposit my paycheck, and then get gas and go to work. I get to the bank and find that there's already a bit of a line. No worries, though, it'll move fast, I'm sure.
Wrong.
Each and every individual in front of me was a crazy bastard that made me weep for the aforementioned bank tellers. The particular teller in question was this cute little redheaded woman that was such a trooper that by the end of this endeavor, I wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything would be alright. What would prompt this? Let's find out:
1. Idiot hispanic woman. Now, granted, I'm kind of an asshole for holding against people the fact that they don't speak English when in this country. I realize this reflects poorly on me in some people's eyes. I also don't give a crap. That said, this woman really takes the cake. Most non-english-speakers can at least understand English fairly well, even if they can't speak it back to you. Not this one. She had two friends with her to translate. Two friends who clearly were not mentally equipped to be translators. Fortunately, there was another banker who did apparently speak fluent spanish. However, I don't think she was a teller, because she wasn't really behind the desk that much. Instead, she would occasionally get called over to offer assistance when Redhead couldn't get idiot hispanic woman (IHW) to understand. Now, granted, her not speaking English does not necessarily make her an idiot. That came later. The woman has an ATM card, and Redhead asks her to swipe it. The woman does not know how to swipe it. The woman. Does not. Know how. To swipe it. What. The fuck. It's a goddamn ATM card. The instruction is depicted on the damn number pad. There is only one side with the magnetic stripe!
Finally, Redhead managed to muddle through enough that IHW seemed satisfied. Then we go to...
2. Crazy old polish woman. I don't actually know if she was polish. She was short, wide-faced, small-eyed, gray-haired, and spoke with some kind of accent I couldn't place. I chose polish because she reminded me of a WW2 movie. She asked the teller for four hundred dollars and seven in quarters. Now, analyze that statement. It's even money as to whether she means $407 total, with 400 in bills and 7 in quarters, or whether she means $400 total, with 7 of them in quarters. Redhead guessed the latter. COPW seemed okay with this, and walked off. #3 (I'll get to this guy in a minute) approaches, and COPW comes back asking why she has $3 in bills. Redhead, trying to be polite, says that was her change, and 10-7 is 3. COPW then says she wanted $400, and then a separate $7 in quarters. Was she seriously going to get uppity about $7? She might've, had she not asked, "Well, that money is still in my account, right?" This just made my brain fail. No, the money vanished! Where the fuck else would it be?!
3. Asshole. There's really no better way to describe him. Asshole approaches and Redhead, fresh from dealing with IHW and COPW, says, "Welcome to Bank of America!" in as cheerful a voice as possible. Asshole looks up at her. "Wha?" "Good morning!" she replies brightly. "Oh," he says, and looks back down. Jerk. Could at least greet her back. This is where the story gets slightly disjointed because the events of #4 now take place, and then I get called over to do my transaction. However, as I'm doing my transaction, the rest of #3 happens. Apparently, whatever Asshole is doing requires him to swipe his card. He does so, but apparently it doesn't work, so Redhead asks him to swipe it again. He does so, and I guess it fails another time. The translator woman from before comes over to assist, and that's when this guy gets ornery. She tells him his card appears to not be working, and he goes nuts. "Well, it usually works! It only has a problem sometimes! You people give me a defective card! I should just go to a different bank!" All this crap to these poor tellers because his fucking card doesn't work. Chill out, guy.
4. Creepy Vietnamese Dude. Again, I don't know that this guy was actually Vietnamese. I'm not sure what the hell he was. He seemed very vaguely asian, but that may not have been the case at all. I just don't know. This guy's story actually starts before #1, as I'm filling out my deposit slip. He seems to go stand in line, but looks around very jumpily. He looks over my shoulder at what I'm writing (which creeps me out to no end), and continues acting really squirrly. He was in a tall winter hat and a trench coat, and I half-suspected he was there to rob the place (in which case I would've promptly bound his arms from my place behind him in line and knocked him to the ground -- those tellers had dealt with enough that day). But he wasn't, and eventually he gets up to the teller. And he asks for $405. Yes, $405. Not $400, $405. What the hell. Who asks for four hundred...and five dollars? "I want $400...and a penny!" This just made my head hurt all the more.
Sadly, Redhead was still dealing with Asshole, so I couldn't be a refreshing change of pace for her. Regardless, when I did get called down to the next teller, and she said, "Good morning, welcome to Bank of America!" I replied, "Good morning, and thank you!" as cheerfully as possible. I then said, "I'm just here to deposit a check."
Fucksake, those people are heroes.