Mini Vacay

Well, now, I'm back from my five day retreat from the banking world. Nothing big happened, right?

Interesting five days. The more I did, the longer I stayed away from the bank, the more I forgot, and the more relaxed I became.

Wednesday: Tremendously productive. Jeep inspection and oil change, paid property taxes and home owners insurance, my vision is 20/20 (actually 20/15 in my right eye) and I got a lot of cleaning done around the house. Forgot the interest rates on business money markets.

Thursday: Not so productive. Some cleaning, some writing, some video games. Forgot the mail code for product services and the name of the business I opened a checking account for on Tuesday.

Friday: Did NOTHING productive. Literally. TV, video games, writing, internet, eating (it is vacation, after all). Forgot the interest rates on Interest Bearing Checking, the mail code for check images, and the number of the deli that I always got lunch from.

Saturday: Now Saturday was epic. My brother woke me up an hour too early to get to my nephew's football game. I went to the deli to get an egg sandwich. It was gross. I dropped my phone outside the deli, and didn't realize until 25 minutes later, thus skragging my phone. Football game was rained out. Whilst playing video games, texting over IM, and chatting over X-Box Live, I managed to stab myself just above the knee with an X-acto knife. I hobbled to the Sprint Store, found the exact phone I wanted, found out they didn't have it in stock, went home to see if my old phone would hold a charge, found out it didn't, went back to Sprint store to get other, less perfect phone as temporary replacement. Did more house cleaning despite stab wound to the knee. Forgot interest rates on ALL accounts, name of the courier, proper emergency exit procedures, and how to use ConnectionSpot.

Sunday: Did last minute cleaning. Went to Blockbuster with Jillian to rent video games. Went to my sister's house to visit and explain stab wound, helped brother in law with Jeep cover. Went back home and played video games. Watched baseball, learned a whole lot about Facebook. Forgot names of co-workers, phone number of the branch, job description, passwords to all computer applications, and directions to the branch. By the time I went to sleep Sunday night, all I remembered was that I had a job with Fiscal United Bank and that my title had the word Relationship in it.

Monday: Imagine my disappointment when I learned that my job was about Relationship BANKING, not as some sort of romantic counsellor.

Leave Me Alone, I'm Sick

So I'm running a fever of, by my estimation, 128 degrees. I've been bouncing between flop sweat and shivering for the entire day. My sinuses feel like their packed with Pop Rocks and Alka Seltzer. My nose is like Hilary Clinton; it won't stop running, even though it's been told repeatedly that enough is enough. My cough sounds like a 75 year old woman who smoked 18 packs a minute for 320 years. I'm hallucinating, or maybe there really are small parakeets dive bombing the teller line.

But I can't go home, because I am closing. This isn't the first time, either. As a teller, I once went through an entire day having to vomit every 45 minutes, even though I had nothing in my stomach. I had such a high fever that I was huddled over the drive up drawer with the heater on for warmth. I had to lay in the back on the floor every few minutes to keep from falling down. But I stayed, because I was closing, and God Forbid anyone else step up to the plate and take a bullet.

Everyone wants you to feel better, everyone wants you to be well, exccept no one else will step up and take over for you if it means they have to stay past 5:01.

Being a team player is sometimes exceedingly painful. I have a five day weekend starting Wednesday. Hopefully tomorrow will find me not as an extra in The Andromeda Strain.

Is It National Asshole Month And I Missed The Memo?

In my job as a banker, I meet some interesting people. That sometimes translates into people who have a very interesting take on life that amuses me and makes me think about new ways of approaching problems, appreciating the little things, or communicating. Then again, it sometimes translates into self important douche bags who like to make themselves feel important when the world just doesn't make sense to them.

A client at the bank this week was told by our telephone express department that there was a $700 transaction on her account with Monday's date on it Tuesday at 5:30. She called the branch, and we tried to explain to her that until it shows up in our claims system (1-3 days), we can't dispute the transaction. She then blusters about her husband's connections, and proceeds to call the cops. A plainclothes detective shows up, and I, at my manager Alice's urging, deny him entry into the building until I can call my manager back (at this point I was the only senior staff member present) and he calls two patrol cars to back him up. When they finally arrive and knock, I realize that the uniformed guys are someone I HAVE to let in, so I open the door, and he practically tears the door open. After reading me the riot act about correct procedure for identifying plain clothes officers, he spoke to Alice and she smoothed things over (and I may have gotten a free day off out of it). So I have to deal with THAT as I'm ready to leave the building. POINTER: You don't call the cops when there is a transaction you don't recognize, even if your husband IS the fucking DA, or works for him, or gargles his balls, whatever this old bitch claimed. You follow bank procedure, and don't abuse your power. The officer in question is friends with her husband, and is now being questioned by our security department for procedural irregularity.

Another client sat at my desk and asked me a series of questions, and I answered them to the best of my ability. When she left, I assumed I had done all I could to answer her questions in a courteous, professional matter, mostly because she thanked me and didn't say "I'm sorry, I'm still not satisfied." Well, turns out she was NOT satisfied, as she claims that my answer to one of her problems was me handing her a pile of papers and saying "here, YOU find it". BULLSHIT, bitch. That stack of papers was me handing you the tangled mess you've made out of your Christmas Club by changing how much you put in every time you renew it. It is not my fault if you don't know what your husband is doing to your joint accounts behind your back (or what he's likely doing to your bedsheets with his secretary while you're off griping about everything in the world). Incidentally, the only way she knew about ANY of this is because I tried out of the kindness of my dumb old heart to explain something I THOUGHT might appear confusing to the mind of a newborn ferret, or a creature of similar intelligence. Apparently I overestimated her.

A client came in and wasted a full two hours of my time just before I was about to go to lunch and had me open an account. He lied to me about how much money he was depositing, he counted each bill of the rubber banded wad one at a time licking his fingers between each bill, he then pulled out a second wad of bills when I was forced to count it anyway, he mumbled, he smelled bad, and he had an annoying habit of shaking his head side to side when the answer to my question is yes. DICKFUCK.

It seems like 99% of the clients I deal with this week are fucksticks. Will everybody just shut the fuck up, have a milkshake, and fucking chill for five minutes?

END RANT

The End Of Casual Fridays

Today marks the end of the Casual Friday Era, and I, for one, am devastated. It was so liberating to go to work wearing nothing but a tee-shirt (and pants, of course). I don't think we should go to a full casual environment (we'll leave that to WaMu and their ilk) but it makes for a nice change of pace.

What befuddles me is that there are people out there that wrinkle their noses at us when they see us in tee-shirts or polos. "I like you in suits," they say, as if how we are dressed has ANY impact on our ability to do our job. One of these same customers actually complained because we weren't open on this 4th of July, which was on a Friday.

"It's a banking day," she whined.

"It's a holiday," a teller repied.

"It's a banking day," she whined again.

"It's a National Holiday," the teller replied.

"It's a banking day," she whined a third time.

"It's the birthday of our country and every bank and government organization gets it off," the teller said.

"It's a banking day," she whined yet again.

At this point, we realized she was completely self-absorbed and incapable of understanding even basic human needs, and ended the conversation. I would like to know where these people work and visit them at their jobs and tell them I like them better wearing tuxedos and evening gowns. But then again, half the customers who complain about this are elderly retired folk.

Fare thee well, Fiscal United tee-shirt. We've only known each other a short time, but it was a wonderful affair while it lasted.

Here's A Concept Everyone Can Get Behind...

Milkshake Wednesdays!

We just celebrated making it halfway through the work week by buying ourselves a round of frosty milkshakes from Flo's, the local snack shack. I have to tell you spirits are soaring here. I think that it should be instituted as policy. Imagine; every Wednesday, the bank buys us all milk shakes, and in turn, we get fat and unable to leave the building! It's a win win situation!

Saturdays

I have a deal with one of our other Relationship Bankers that allows me to only work one Saturday a month (at the cost of closing three nights a week during the weeks I am not working Saturday). Not the ideal arrangement, considering that when I was promoted, I was told I would only be working one of every four Saturdays and only closing one or two nights a week. It works okay for both of us, because I HATE working Saturdays, and she hates closing. I have to stay an hour and a half later one more night a week, but I get to actually have a weekend.

None of this would be necessary if we worked in a branch like my old branches, where the Assistant Manager served as another CSR, taking on a fair share of closing, weekends, ATM duties, etc. But that is, as they say, neither here nor there.

So this is my Saturday. It's rainy, it's hot, and it's depressing, and it's only a third of the way over. It's boring for 60% of the day, and the other 40% is hectic as all get out. Seems like everybody gets here at the exact same time, and everybody wants to open an account at 2:55 P.M.

SIGH... Three hours left...

Client Appreciation Minute

In light of the fact that this is usually the week we did customer appreciation day as Southern Star Bank, and we have yet to hear anything about it, I am forced to assume the project has been abandoned. No more Hawaiian theme, no more football theme, no more movie theme, no more free keychains and hats and pens and virgin daquiris.

As such, I am hereby instituting a replacement policy, the Client Appreciation Minute. At 1:45 PM today, it will be the First Annual Fiscal United Bank Client Appreciation Minute. Any customer at my desk at 1:45 PM will be treated to a free giveaway celebrating their patronage at Fiscal United Bank.

Oops. Time's up.