Weekday after weekday I come in here, enter the bank that employs me. I’m collecting a pay cheque under the guise of helping customers with their finances. I’ve been working here for 5 years in the front as a teller. Completing quick transactions or booking appointments. I just got a promotion so I’m the one in the office now. Instead of helping whoever is next in line quickly, I am to prepare for them ahead of time and spend up to an hour with each one.
I had to go through an interview even though I was the only one who applied for this position, of course I was getting this job. The best incentive is more money. And having my own office could be refreshing. In the last 5 years I’ve sat in the front, out in the open, more exposed. Of course I looked over at the offices and saw how those bankers get to close their doors and be by themselves often. So I made it to this side and I get to close my door, but the grass isn’t always greener.
Even though I am a little introverted, I am certainly pushing through to be interested enough in these people and their stories to be successful with this promotion. I received two weeks of training and included in this was a lot of information and techniques on how to ask open ended questions. Because that’s how you find things out. Find out what they need, what I can sell them and help them with. Some of the people coming into my office can be interesting if nothing else.
One older gentleman came in to open a bank account one day. He just moved to town, obtained employment as a heavy equipment operator. He had a long white beard except for the yellow nicotine stain around his mouth. He smelled of stale cigarettes, so strong that I assumed it was coming from his skin as well as his clothes. “Can my wife be joint on the account with me? How do we make that happen?” His speech was a touch mumbly, some sort of twang on the end of his words. I wondered what their house smelled like. A nauseating thought inside that translated to a big nod and smile on the outside as I answered: “She would have to come in and sign for the account also.” “Can she come in now to do it?” His posture was slack. “Of course. Is she outside or something?” I asked, keeping my shoulders back and chin up. “Yep.” He answered as he took out his phone. He called the wife, advised her to come in and in she came from the car.
Wife was large with barely any neck, short brown and messy hair. Her mouth was small, a little bit open and gaunt looking. I could hear her breathing short wispy breaths. Intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but enter my mind about how these people lived. Do they fuck, I wondered and shuddered at the thought of his nicotine dick thrusting into her fat body. Why does my mind do this to me.
Fraud is a regular thing we deal with more and more. Some people are more susceptible than others and I had the pleasure of dealing with one individual who is known at our branch for being particularly prone to getting ripped off. I’ve seen and know that there is a spectrum of intelligence within people, and there is nothing wrong with this, it’s how the world is, but right now dealing with it directly is making me heated.
This time it was a romance scam. He had gotten connected with some ‘woman’ in ‘South America’ somewhere. “She’s coming up here to see me once she gets this cleared up. Can I show you a picture? She’s beautiful.” He said with hopeful eyes. He is in his early 30s, around the same age as me. Tall and broad like a tree, his head is kind of big and square shaped but his eyes are a little too close together which throws everything off just a little. “No. Not right now. We have to deal with this right now. It’s a bit serious this time. When you give your username and password out for your online banking to someone, to someone you haven’t even met, you’ve technically broken the terms and conditions of your account agreement.” I had to be firm. Any enthusiasm he had brought into this appointment about the prospect of new love changed after my tone turned serious. A part of me felt bad for this gullible man but I don’t have time for this. “Fine. Just close my account then. Right now.” He said. Maybe he was offended or embarrassed. “It. Is. A. Scam. You have to see that.” I said, staring at him, not blinking. Staring at him waiting for him to realize it and agree. I was being rude but I didn’t care. “It’s not a scam.” Was his response to me. I wanted to shake him, shake the feeble-mindedness out of him. Of course I didn’t, but I did say “Good. Have a good day. See ya.” He told my manager about my parting words and I got in trouble.
Not all of the people I deal with are dismal. There have been times where I feel a little intimidated with who is in my office. One day a very handsome man came in. His father had recently passed away so he brought in the death certificate to start the estate process. When the bank is notified of a death, locks are placed on the accounts until the estate is settled, usually when probate is obtained. The executor, usually a family member, is still able to come in and pay any bills or take out funds for funeral expenses. “Thanks for your help with all of this. And for explaining everything so well.” He said near the end of the appointment. In these sensitive situations, I always take care. But I was captivated by his looks, body language and how he was looking at me with his nice eyes. So in this case, I was really taking care to speak well, smile, and try to look attractive.
I couldn’t help it, something about how this man carried himself made him stunning. I thought of us being alone in this building and him bending me over my desk. I thought about him tying me up, taking full control while feeling so safe at the same time. I thought about kissing him, but kept these thoughts inside as the appointment wrapped up. I slid my card to him across the desk and said “I’m here to help however I can in this trying time.” He thanked me, shook my hand and his touch nearly melted me. So much so that I thought of him for weeks whenever I masturbated. I must have willed it into existence because one night, I ran into him at a bar. I was taking my friend out for a birthday drink and we recognized each other immediately. We met up and hooked up shortly after that. To my surprise he was terrible in bed.
Life is filled with good, bad, boring, messy, funny, desperate, exciting, physically hard, terrible, euphoric, painful and so many more kinds of moments. Moments that add up to a lifetime. The people that come into my office are trying, doing and living the best way they can or know how to. Despite it all, I am glad to be here despite any suffering, anything grim or bad that I have to deal with, I strive for better.
Our innate intuition and nature of wanting to live runs deep inside me. I welcome these weirdos that come in here. I’ll help if I can.
