I work in banking for a number of years long before the introduction of automated tellers. One branch that I work at is robbed several times in the space of a year.

After one of these robberies, with numerous police cars parked out front and a sign advising that we are closed due to a robbery, one of our least-liked customers starts rattling the doors and screaming to get in.

Customer: “I have some urgent business to transact!”

This goes on for a good half-hour, despite her being told by the police that the branch is unlikely to reopen today.

She returns the following day a few minutes before we open and, again, starts pulling on locked doors and yelling for us to let her in.

When the branch opens, she storms into the manager’s office.

Customer: “Your service is atrocious. You don’t know who I am or you would treat me better!”

The manager, fed up with her antics, has me prepare a bank draft for the balance in her account, and then he gives it to her.

Manager: “Please never darken our doors again.”

I thought she was going to have a stroke on the spot. She called us every name in the book, threatened to have the entire branch fired, etc. Meanwhile, my manager hit the silent alarm button and, as we’d been robbed the previous day, the police showed up in record time.

She wouldn’t listen to the officers who responded, and she was taken out in handcuffs. No one got fired.

I work in a bank in a very small town. I am Latina. An old man comes in and throws his debit card on the counter.

Customer: “Your stupid ATM won’t take my card!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. Let me pull up the account and make sure there are no restrictions.”

I do this.

Me: “I don’t see any issues. Let me call it in.”

I call our support department, and the rep on the other end says she will look into it. She’s typing away and the customer is still complaining loudly.

Customer: “This all started when you people put Spanish on the ATM.”

Me: “Come again?”

Customer: “Ever since you put Spanish on the ATM, my card doesn’t work.”

Me: “Sir, that’s not how it works.”

Customer: “Of course, it is! Before there was a Spanish option, my card always worked. Now it doesn’t. What else could it be, young lady?”

Me: “Any number of things. That’s why I called our support team, sir.”

The rep on the phone is still typing away but can hear us.

Representative: “Almost there. Did he just say what I think he said?”

Me: “Yes.”

Representative: “That’s… not how it works.”

Me: “Would you like to explain that to him directly?”

Representative: “I’ll pass.”

Customer: “What do we need Spanish for? No one here is even Spanish!”

Representative: “Found the issue! He entered the wrong PIN. Nothing to do with the Spanish function at all. Anything else I can help you with?”

Me: “No, you’ve been very helpful. Thanks!”

I hang up the phone. The customer looks at me expectantly.

Customer: “Well? It’s the Spanish!”

Me: “They said you entered the wrong PIN. I can help you reset it, if you’d like.”

Customer: “But, but, but… the Spanish screwed me up!”

He grabbed his card and stomped out, muttering to himself.

Related:
Totally Estúpido! Part 15
Totally Estúpido! Part 14
Totally Estupido, Part 13
Totally Estupido, Part 12
Totally Estupido, Part 11

I’m working at a bank. I’m a woman in my twenties. A male customer, about my age, approaches the counter.

Customer #1: “I need $100 in new ones for Eid.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any new ones on hand at this time. I can sort through what we do have and get you some nice bills, though.”

Customer #1: “No, they must be new. Do you even know what Eid is?! It’s required that I have new money.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any.”

Customer #1: “Well, go make some more!”

Me: “Come again?”

Customer #1: “In the back. You make them in the back, right?”

Me: “Sir, we don’t print money here. We get it shipped to us.”

Customer #1: “And when will you have new bills shipped to you?”

Me: “We order it around Christmas.”

Customer #1: “Well, that doesn’t help me now. Fine. Where is there a currency exchange in this state?!”

Me: “It’s at [Large City three hours away].”

Customer #1: “You’re making me drive all the way over there?! You’re a bank! Forget it. I’ll try somewhere else where the tellers aren’t so useless!“

He storms out. I take a deep breath to compose myself and call the next customer, a well-dressed older woman.

Customer #2: “I guess I’m out of luck? I need new ones for Eid, as well.”

I mentally groan and wait for the next temper tantrum.

Customer #2: “But you said you can find some nice ones?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. How many do you need?”

Customer #2: “Do you have $10?”

Me: “I do.”

I count it out to her. She nods.

Customer #2: “These will work. They look almost new. Thank you so much. I heard you mention getting new money around Christmas. Can people place orders for that?”

Me: “Yes. You can call in around Thanksgiving and we’ll take an order for you. It usually takes a week or so to come in.”

Customer #2: “Fantastic! I’ll make a note to do that. Also, I’d like to apologize for that other guy.”

Me: “That’s not necessary.”

Customer #2: “No, I insist. He shouldn’t have treated you like that. It wasn’t right. You don’t control what gets sent to you. Anyway, you’ve been such a help, dear. I hope you have a fantastic day.”

She smiled, waved, and exited. Be nice to your tellers, people.

My spouse and I get a call from our credit card company.

Representative #1: “We’ve had a security breach and, while your card wasn’t affected, we are going to cancel it and send you a new one, just to be safe.”

Me: “That’s fine, but we’re leaving tomorrow on a trip. Can it wait until we get back?”

The rep says yes, confirms our return date, and makes note of where we’re going so using our card won’t get flagged.

We drive north from California as planned and, at about the time we cross the border so we can spend two weeks with our friends in Canada, the credit card stops working. While we have enough money in our accounts, only a small bit of it is easily accessible from where we are. We’re fine for now — and our friends are fronting us funds best they can — but we can’t get home without a working credit card. So, we call the company.

Representative #2: “We needed to cancel your card, but the new one should be at your home by now.”

Me: “We’re not at home. We’re in Canada. The other rep said we could wait until we got back. Can you reactivate the card?”

Representative #2: “Sorry, I can’t do that, but I can send you a new card.”

We give the rep the address: [number, Street, and Town], British Columbia, Canada. A couple of days later…

Me: “We were supposed to get our new credit card at our friends’ house where we’re staying.”

Representative #3: “We can’t find the address. Are you in Columbia?”

Me: “What? No. We’re in Canada. In the province British Columbia.”

The rep promises to send it right out to the correct address. A couple of days later…

Me: “Where is our credit card?”

Representative #4: “We mailed it to your address in the British Virgin Islands.”

Me: “!!!”

Finally, they suggest getting a new card in person. As they’re an American company, there is only one bank in the area they’re affiliated with that can do it, a half-hour drive away. We make the trip and get the card, and it works.

When we got home, we looked through our pile of mail and found the first cards mailed to us at home, now cancelled. And we found a very interesting envelope, with another set of now-cancelled cards, forwarded to us from the British Virgin Islands.

I am paying my credit card with $300 worth of twenties.

Teller: “Wow, these twenties are crisp.”

Me: “That’s because I—”

Teller: *With an exasperated sigh* “Printed it out this morning, I know.”

Me: “No… I pulled it out of the ATM just before I walked in.”

Teller: “Oh.”

Me: “How often do you hear that joke?”

Teller: “All the time.”