Mischief Managed

I have a stammer, and I have good and bad days. As I’ve gotten older, it has improved, but it is still there, waiting for a moment to pounce. Unfortunately, there are still many who think those with a stammer are somehow a bit “slow” or incapable of doing a good job.

I work in a bank. We are short-staffed, so to keep the front office running and not inconvenience customers, I have to leave my normal job and take over the “meet and greet” desk. It’s a really busy branch, and the queues are always long no matter how many staff we have out front.

To make matters worse, the air conditioning isn’t working, and everyone, customers and staff alike, is sweltering in the summer heat. Like everyone else, my tie is loosened, my sleeves are rolled up, and I am jacketless.

I have just finished dealing with one customer when a smartly-dressed woman pushes her way to the front of the queue, nudging the person who should have been next out of the way.

Me: *Very politely* “Please wait your turn while I serve this woman.”

This doesn’t go down well, and the pusher starts kicking off, demanding more staff be brought out as:

Customer: “I am a very important customer of this bank!”

I ignore her and continue dealing with the other woman, who simply rolls her eyes in sympathy for me. When she leaves, the pusher lives up to her name and again pushes ahead of the next in line, demanding to be seen first and repeating her claim to be important.

Me: “Ma’am, go to the back of the queue and wait your turn like these patient people who were here before you. Next customer, please.”

In an instant, she goes ballistic, shouting about how I swore at her. She starts marching around the queues trying to wind up the already hot and bothered customers and staff. Up and down she stomps, loudly demanding to see the manager. All this time, the list of my misdeeds lengthens to the point where one would think I had physically assaulted her.

Eventually, she makes so much noise that the Operations Manager comes out to see what’s going on.

Operations Manager: “What’s going on? How can I be of assistance?”

Immediately, her manner changes, becoming charming and superior.

Customer: “Your teller has been rude. I demand that he apologise and be reprimanded. I want to make a formal complaint and be seen in a private room.”

Trying to defuse the situation and calm the atmosphere in the banking hall, he takes her into the main interview room. After a few minutes, another staff member comes out to relieve me, saying I have to go into the room.

I knock and enter. The woman, now obviously feeling in control of the situation, points at me.

Customer: “Yes, that’s him. I want him dismissed or put on report; otherwise, I’m writing to your Head Office.”

[Operations Manager] looks at me sadly and shakes his head.

Operations Manager: “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Customer: “Why not, you’re the branch manager, aren’t you?”

Operations Manager: “No, I’m the operations manager.”

Unsurprisingly, she kicks off again, demanding to speak to the “real” manager, not one of the “juniors.”

Me: “I’ll get him for you.”

I leave the room, and a few minutes later, I return, sleeves rolled down and buttoned, tie done up, and jacket on, as I want to look my best for the explosion and dressing down that’s to follow.

Customer: “Where is he?”

She’s looking around to see if anyone is behind me.

Me: “Ma’am, I am the branch manager, and I am giving you one month’s notice to make alternative banking arrangements. I don’t want people like you in my banking hall. You will receive a letter from me in the post. Good day to you, and don’t forget to get to the back of the queue on your way out.”

Her face was a picture. [Operations Manager] just smiled, having played his part to perfection. Things rarely go perfectly, but when they do, the feeling is priceless.