(I work as a bank teller. As part of our training, we are told that if we are ever robbed we are to just hand over the money and not fight or argue with the robber. The branch that I trained at was robbed three months ago. I work in a grocery store bank, and it is the middle of a weekday. A customer walks up to my station. He’s a big guy and looks like he could be a football player.)

Me: “Hello. How are you?”

(The customer doesn’t say anything and does not change facial expression. I’m a little unnerved, as this is not usual, but I press on.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

(He just tosses a sealed envelope onto the counter. I feel myself fill with fear. This guy is robbing me with a note. I stare at the envelope, not wanting to open it. The customer isn’t saying anything, just staring at me. I suddenly get really, really angry. I look at my stapler and debate just throwing it at his face. I quickly toss that idea aside and open the envelope. Inside is a deposit. I complete the deposit and hand the customer the slip. The customer never says a word, just stares at me the whole time. I feel shaky so I go tell my manager about it.)

Me: “He just scared me the whole time. His facial expression never changed, and he never said a word.”

Manager: “What was his name?”

Me: “[Customer].”

Manager: “Oh, he’s deaf. That’s why he didn’t say anything. He’s a regular at the main branch, but sometimes he stops in here.”

(Boy, was I glad I didn’t throw my stapler at him!)

(I work in a bank. We have a system where each client takes a ticket as they come in, which needs to be scanned when they reach the front desk. It is mostly used to record waiting times but is a requirement to do banking with us, as our system doesn’t allow us to access client accounts without first scanning a ticket. There are workarounds, but generally, we aren’t allowed to use them. The average wait time at the moment is fifteen minutes. I finish with one client and a gentleman approaches my desk immediately after.)

Me: “Hello. Could I have your ticket, please?”

Gentleman: “I need to cash this cheque, please.”

Me: “Certainly, sir. Could I please have your ticket?”

Gentleman: “I didn’t get one. Can you hurry? I need this cheque cashed.”

(Before I can say anything else, he turns to the man being helped by my colleague and mutters, “Women,” in an unimpressed tone. I take an instant dislike to it.)

Me: “Actually, sir, you need a ticket in order to continue.”

Gentleman: “No, you don’t.”

Me: “Yes, I do. In order to access the computer, a ticket first needs to be scanned.”

Gentleman: “Listen, sweetheart. You must be new. You can work around the ticket lock. The manager does it all the time.”

Me: “I am aware of that, sir. However, as this is the second time you have spoken out of turn in relation to my gender, I have decided not to make that exception for you. You will need a ticket to continue.”

Gentleman: “Oh, really? I’ll just get this young man to help me once my good friend here has finished.”

Colleague: “No ticket, no service.”

(He blushes, but reluctantly takes a ticket and waits in line. Fifteen minutes later, he returns.)

Gentleman: *throwing the ticket and cheque at me* “Money. Now.”

Me: “Of course.”

(I cash his cheque.)

Gentleman: “I also want something extra for making me wait twice as long.”

Me: “I wasn’t the one who neglected to take a ticket.”

Gentleman: “You’re just angry at me because I’m a man who refuses to cower beneath your lesbian feminism.”

Me: “Well, you have certainly lost any chance of getting something ‘extra’ from me.”

Gentleman: “I don’t need a woman to give me extra. I can get a man… umm, manager. Get me the manager.”

(I call the manager.)

Manager: *before I can speak* “The guy’s an a**. He jumped in front of a pregnant woman the second he came through the door. Call security if he gets hostile.”

Me: *smiling* “The manager isn’t interested in taking your request, and would like you to please leave.”

(To my surprise, he didn’t become aggressive. He just took a step back, stared at me for a short while, and left. I haven’t seen him since.)

(I work in a bank. We have just closed up for the night. My coworker and I are balancing the vault when we hear a loud crash and feel the building shake.)

Coworker: “HOLY CRAP! What was that?!”

Me: “Sounds like it came from the drive-up. You don’t think someone hit us, do you?”

Coworker: “Oh, no.”

(We run out of the vault, across the lobby, and into the drive-up area. Thankfully, there is no hole in the wall, but there is a slightly damaged car parked at an awkward angle in our business deposit lane. The customer in the car looks very confused.)

Me: *through the mic* “Sir, are you okay?”

Customer: “Did I hit something?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “What did I hit?”

Me: “You hit the wall, and you hit it very hard. We felt the building shake. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Customer: “I need to make a deposit!”

Me: “Sir, we’re actually closed for the night. Can I call someone to come pick you up? Your car is damaged.”

Customer: “NO! I’m FINE! It’s still drivable, so I’ll come back tomorrow!”

(He reverses out of the lane at a crazy angle, and speeds off. My coworker and I stare at each other.)

Coworker: “At least there’s no hole in the wall…”

(The bank calls the store as my manager is getting ready to open for the day.)

Manager: “[Store], how can I help you?”

Banker: “Good morning. This is [Banker] from [Bank]. I’m calling to let you know that your deposit from last night is one hundred dollars short.”

Manager: *shocked* “A hundred?! There’s no way I would have missed that much of a difference!”

Banker: “I’m afraid so, ma’am. The deposit is one hundred dollars short of the number on the envelope.”

Manager: “But how could that even happen?”

Banker: “Well, ma’am, the hundred-dollar bill from your deposit is, unfortunately, a fake.”

Manager: *pause* “You could have just told me that.”

(I’m a teller at a bank where we need to fill a slip to do most transactions, like deposits and withdrawals. Some customers come up to the window with their slips filled up, but not always. This happens several times throughout the day when customers come up with no slip.)

Customer: “I’ll like to make a deposit.”

Me: *pulls out deposit slip* “Okay, I just need your name and how much you’re depositing.”

Customer: *looks at slip* “I don’t have that information.”

Me: “You don’t know your name?”