Human Interaction Is So Mechanical

, , , , | Working | November 3, 2017

(I stop by my local bank on lunch to make a cash deposit. There is just one other person in line and two people being waited on, so I decide to go in. The wait isn’t long, and I soon approach the teller.)

Me: “I’d like to make a deposit.”

Teller: *processes transaction and hands receipt to me* “You could have used the ATM.”

Me: “I know.”

Teller: “Have you ever done it before?”

Me: “No.”

Teller: “Do you want me to show you how?”

Me: “No.”

(I left confused, unsure if she was trying to be helpful and save me the two-minute wait or because she would rather I not have come in to interact with her.)

Why Not? You Blame Him For Everything Else

, , , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(After opening an account for a customer, I realize that I am missing some information. Banking regulations require us to get the account holder’s job title, or in this customer’s situation, a previous job title, as he is retired.)

Me: *on the phone* “Sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m going to need your job title from before you retired.”

Customer: “Both my wife and I worked at [National Scientific Lab].”

Me: “Yes, sir, but I will also need to get your job title, as well.”

Customer: “Is this because of Obama?!”

Me: “No, sir, these are just banking regulations. I am required to get this information.”

Customer: “Why, though?!”

Me: “That’s just what is required of me. I’m sorry if it causes any inconveniences.”

Customer: “Are you sure Obama isn’t making you do this?”

Me: “Yes, sir. As far as I know, I’ve never talked to the President about banking regulations.”

Taking Account Of Your Name

, , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(It’s been a long day with difficult customers. A customer that I’ve never seen before walks up to my window and slaps some cash down on the counter.)

Customer: “Put this in my account.”

Me: “Sure thing. What’s your name?”

Customer: “And I want my balance.”

Me: “Absolutely. What’s your name?”

Customer: “I think there’s $200 here.”

Me: “Okay, what’s your account number?”

Customer: “I don’t know that.”

Me: “No problem. What’s your name?

Customer: “You don’t know me?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “But I come in here all the time! Why should I give you my name?”

(The following flies out of my mouth before I can stop myself…)

Me: “Or I could just put this $200 in my account…”

Customer: “[Customer]! It’s [Customer]!”

Me: “Thank you! Here’s your receipt, with your balance. Have a great evening!”

(I didn’t get in trouble. My supervisor was laughing too hard to do anything.)

Persevering Pop Proves His Parking Point

, , , , , , | Friendly | October 23, 2017

(My dad goes to the bank one night to draw money out of the ATM. There are three spaces right up front, and a woman has parked her car sideways over two of them. My dad pulls into the third, effectively blocking her in, unless she wants to back up over the planter.)

Woman: *running from the ATM* “You can’t park there! You’re blocking me in!”

Dad: *shrugging* “I’m parked perfectly legally, inside the lines. It’s not my fault you parked across two spots and now can’t get out.”

Woman: “You have to move right now! I’m in a hurry.”

Dad: “Not my problem. You shouldn’t have parked like that.”

Woman: “But no one else was here!”

Dad: “Again, not my problem. You shouldn’t assume you’re the only person in the world and that no one else wants to use the ATM.”

(The woman continues shrieking at him, threatening to hit his car in order to get hers out, and he tells her he hopes she has really good insurance, since there are video cameras outside the bank that will show she deliberately hit his car.)

Woman: “I’m getting the security guard!”

Dad: “Great! Go for it.”

(He sits on a nearby bench and waits. The woman comes back with a security guard who patrols that lot at night.)

Guard: “Is that your car, sir?”

Dad: “Yes, it is.”

Woman: “Make him move it! I’m in a hurry!”

Guard: *to my dad* “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to move your car, sir?”

Dad: *grinning* “Not at the moment, no.”

Guard: *to the woman* “I’m sorry, ma’am; there’s nothing I can do. He’s legally parked in between the lines. He has every right to park there as a customer. You shouldn’t have parked the way you did.”

Woman: “BUT I WAS IN A HURRY!”

Dad: “And now you’re stuck. How’s that working out for you?”

Woman: *screaming* “I’m calling the police!”

Dad: “Great.”

(The woman walks away, presumably to go call the police.)

Guard: “You stay as long as you like, sir. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Dad: “Oh, I fully intend to. If she’d asked nicely I would have moved my car right away, but I could tell she thought she was better than everyone else, just by how she parked. I’m in no hurry.”

(The woman came back in tears, and Dad finally moved his car after she promised never to do it again. He said he felt like he made his point.)

The Bank Job

, , , , , , , , | Working | October 20, 2017

In my first real job, one of my tasks is to take cheques to the bank and bring back cash for the petty cash. I am given a handbag and am told I need to take my own wallet for ID purposes at the bank.

The accountant jokes with me, “Oh, if you get mugged, make sure you ask for your wallet back.”

I don’t take his joke too seriously until I am at the bank one day. I turn to see a guy watching the teller counting the money I am to take back. He then turns to me and gives me a creepy grin. I don’t think anything of that until I am a few doors away from the bank and turn to find him so close to me he’s almost touching me. I quickly dart between cars and across the road. He follows a short distance away, so I duck into a shop that I know has an upstairs exit into the next street. I sneak a look when I am going up the stairs to see him standing by the door I had entered. I run out the back door and through another shop before rushing back to work. Thankfully I had explored different routes and knew which stores had rear exits. My work only wants me to take one route to and from the bank, at the same time each day.

Not long after that, I move into a receptionist role and a new hire is given the bank job, which isn’t part of the job description. Her husband comes in to see the accountant and tells him that his wife is not doing the banking. The accountant agrees it is too dangerous for a middle-aged lady to do, but funnily had not considered it too dangerous for his teenage niece to do.

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