The Sweet Smell Of Jasmine And Mary Jane

I am helping train new folks. One day, I am sitting with a girl we will call Sophie and I have my headset plugged into hers so I can listen to her calls and give her feedback and help with answers she doesn’t know. 

Sophie: “Thank you for calling [Bank]. This is Sophie. May I have your name?”

Customer: “Hi, Jasmine, I’m [Customer], I’m locked out of my app.”

Sophie is confused about being called Jasmine but presses forward.

Sophie: “For verification purposes, could you confirm the amount of a recent transaction?”

Customer: “Oh. Um. Uh… Oh! I did a sixteen-dollar transfer to my friend — six for the sandwich and ten for the ounce of pot.”

Sophie gives me a startled look as I try to process that the dude just said that to his BANK.

Customer: “Oh, s***! Jasmine! Jasmine I’m sorry, please don’t turn me in Jasmine!”

Sophie does manage to get his online banking unlocked, with him begging “Jasmine” not to call the cops the whole time. Meanwhile, I am trying very hard not to laugh. Once the call is over, Sophie looks at me.

Sophie: “Uh… should we… do something with that?”

Me: “To be honest, I genuinely don’t know; having a customer tell their bank about their drug deal is new to me. You handled it well. Go ahead and keep taking calls while I check with the leads to see if we need to pursue this.”

They were just as entertained as I was, and none of them seemed to be concerned with reporting it. We all had a good chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, and to this day I still say, “Don’t turn me in, Jasmine!” to mean, “The customers are at it again.”