I am, as anyone who has met me can attest to, a robust figure. My suits could probably double for shelter for some third world families, and if I didn't get regular exercise from playing softball at night, I'd likely be a third world country. As such, in the height of summer, I'm likely to pit a shirt even with the AC running. Others in my branch are quite a bit thinner, and thus is laid the ground work for a battle as old as Time itself (the Magazine, not the Dimensional Concept).
On a typical day, the air is on when we get into the branch. It is usually nice and cool, allowing me to settle in comfortably and begin my day of making the world safe for dollars and cents. Then the assistant manager will come in, and the battle is joined.
"BRRR," she's say, rubbing her arms and shivering. "It's freezing!"
"Really?" I'll reply, "it's pretty comfortable in here, actually."
She'll bump up the thermostat, making the AC turn off, and then almost instantly a humid haze rises in the branch. The temperature climbs like Google stock and suddenly I feel like I am under a blow dryer set on flambe.
A few minutes later, I'll ask if anyone is hot, knowing the response I'll get (I'm not the only one who runs a bit warmer than usual). After a few of the tellers agree with me, I'll wander over to the thermostat and nudge it down until the air kicks on.
A few minutes after that, one of the tellers will make a joke about icicles forming over the drive up station, and the assistant manager will bump the AC off again.
And so it goes, as Billy Joel once sang.
The problem is this: the temperature varies from inch to inch throughout the branch. You can be freezing over by the drive up lane, and then step four feet to the left and suddenly you're sweating like Wesley Snipes at tax time. There are pockets of heat through out the branch, and the challenge is to find them. There is another Relationship Banker that feels the way I do about the heat, but she sits on the other side of the room where it's always hot. It would be nice to switch her with the assistant manager, who sits in one of the coldest spots in the branch, but then the AM would be too far away from the Manager, so it's no go.
So as such, it has been a long while since I have gone more than 10 minutes wearing my suit jacket. It's become vestigial, useless, purely ornamental, and serving no real purpose, like an appendix, a pinky toe, or Rob Schneider's last movie. A shame, too, because I look darned good in a suit. My argument is that I am required to wear a suit, so there is only so far I can go to compensate for the heat. (No one needs to see me in shorts and a tank top, trust me. I don't get to the beach, and I am so pale that people would be calling Ghostbusters if I took my shirt off.)
On the other hand, those who are cold in the air conditioning can dress a bit warmer when they get up in the morning. They can always put on a sweater (or eat a cheeseburger, for goodness sake). They are the ones who can take steps to make themselves comfortable, whereas I am one Full Monty away from getting tossed out of here. Hey, at least I am pretty much permanently excused from wearing my jacket. It's a good thing I give such excellent customer service that it compensates for my jacketlessness when dealing with mystery shoppers.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Jane Sykes, Chapter Two: In Which We Learn That Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates, Which Is Itself Like A Ballistic Missle
After my initial experience with Jane Sykes, I was terrified of the woman. The blazing, crazy eyes. The warbling, shrieking voice. The giant glob of lipstick perpetually stuck to her upper lip.
Apparently, I hadn’t seen anything yet. Jane had been diagnosed with schizophrenia in her mid-twenties. As I mentioned, she is now in her seventies. She is supposed to be medicated, but she often goes off her meds. She has been asked to leave just about every bank in Blue Point. She comes into Fiscal United Bank frequently, as we have not yet asked her to mosey on along.
There is a colloquialism in banking (and, I’m sure, in every retail setting, in one form or another) that has come to be known among our tellers as “shot not.” That name is derived from the term “shotgun,” which is commonly used to claim ownership, derived itself from the practice of calling out “shotgun” in order to secure a place in the front passenger, or “shotgun,” seat. “Shot not,” is exactly what it sounds like; a declaration of negative ownership. In other words, “I’m not taking this one.” Jane Sykes has been “shot not”-ed by just about everyone in the branch, and for good reason.
Apparently, Jane once came into the bank with a problem that needed solving. My assistant manager Margaret, who was a client service rep at the time, was the one who had to resolve the problem. She did so, with quick success, and had earned Jane’s gratitude. Jane came back into the bank a few days later, carrying a box of chocolates, seeking to reward Margaret’s efforts. Margaret, terrified of the woman, had stayed in the vault room, where everyone hides when there is someone they don’t want to deal with. After a few minutes of Jane becoming more and more belligerent and insistent, Margaret stepped out of the vault room, her “business” finished. She was pelted with the box of chocolates by an irate Jane, who was infuriated by the fact that Margaret had taken so long to make an appearance.
Mrs. Gump was correct, life is like a box of chocolates; it can hit you from odd angles and hurt quite a bit if you don’t defend against it.
Since my promotion, I have seen her several times. She is no less scary. I have a thick legal pad on my desk, perfect for blocking incoming Whitman Samplers, just in case.
Apparently, I hadn’t seen anything yet. Jane had been diagnosed with schizophrenia in her mid-twenties. As I mentioned, she is now in her seventies. She is supposed to be medicated, but she often goes off her meds. She has been asked to leave just about every bank in Blue Point. She comes into Fiscal United Bank frequently, as we have not yet asked her to mosey on along.
There is a colloquialism in banking (and, I’m sure, in every retail setting, in one form or another) that has come to be known among our tellers as “shot not.” That name is derived from the term “shotgun,” which is commonly used to claim ownership, derived itself from the practice of calling out “shotgun” in order to secure a place in the front passenger, or “shotgun,” seat. “Shot not,” is exactly what it sounds like; a declaration of negative ownership. In other words, “I’m not taking this one.” Jane Sykes has been “shot not”-ed by just about everyone in the branch, and for good reason.
Apparently, Jane once came into the bank with a problem that needed solving. My assistant manager Margaret, who was a client service rep at the time, was the one who had to resolve the problem. She did so, with quick success, and had earned Jane’s gratitude. Jane came back into the bank a few days later, carrying a box of chocolates, seeking to reward Margaret’s efforts. Margaret, terrified of the woman, had stayed in the vault room, where everyone hides when there is someone they don’t want to deal with. After a few minutes of Jane becoming more and more belligerent and insistent, Margaret stepped out of the vault room, her “business” finished. She was pelted with the box of chocolates by an irate Jane, who was infuriated by the fact that Margaret had taken so long to make an appearance.
Mrs. Gump was correct, life is like a box of chocolates; it can hit you from odd angles and hurt quite a bit if you don’t defend against it.
Since my promotion, I have seen her several times. She is no less scary. I have a thick legal pad on my desk, perfect for blocking incoming Whitman Samplers, just in case.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Error - Tracking Sheet Overload
My brain is a delicate piece of machinery. Maybe it's the excessive alcohol as a kid, maybe it's the concussions from softball, maybe it's the stress of the last 5 years of my life, but I can't keep up with all of the tracking sheets!
Having never been sent to formal training, there is a great deal I have had to learn on the fly. "In house training," they call it. "Too many chefs," I call it. I get instruction from four different sources, and that means I usually get four different methods for doing anything. And that doesn't include the things that no one tells me at all, that happen along the way where suddenly someone asks me about something and I look at them like a dog hearing a new sound for the first time.
So I am already stressing about which way is the right way to do my job, having to sort through four different methods to try and remember the right one. NOW, I have to track everything I do four different ways as well. I have to do a checklist for every account I open. I have to mark in ConnectionSpot what tasks I have performed for each account for each customer. I have to fill out a tracking sheet for my incentives. I have to fill out a banker book, which is basically a rehash of my incentive sheet.
Why can't there be one form for everything? It takes me longer to create the paper trail for an account I open than it does to open the actual account. I was told that Fiscal United Bank was trying to be a green company. All the paper we waste on redundant tracking is only part of the problem. There is a critical time resource that is being misused. Sure, we have some down time at times, else this space would have remained blank in perpetuity. But my brain can't retain enough details per client to put off filling any of these sheets out until later, so if there is a client waiting to be helped, they have to wait longer while I muddle through paper work.
Hopefully one day ConnectionSpot will be able to take what we've done and spit out all of the necessary tracking sheets ready for consumption by management. And actually, I'm pretty sure it already does, else how could our sales coach know if our incentive numbers are correct? So why are we spending so much time drowning in a sea of paperwork?
Having never been sent to formal training, there is a great deal I have had to learn on the fly. "In house training," they call it. "Too many chefs," I call it. I get instruction from four different sources, and that means I usually get four different methods for doing anything. And that doesn't include the things that no one tells me at all, that happen along the way where suddenly someone asks me about something and I look at them like a dog hearing a new sound for the first time.
So I am already stressing about which way is the right way to do my job, having to sort through four different methods to try and remember the right one. NOW, I have to track everything I do four different ways as well. I have to do a checklist for every account I open. I have to mark in ConnectionSpot what tasks I have performed for each account for each customer. I have to fill out a tracking sheet for my incentives. I have to fill out a banker book, which is basically a rehash of my incentive sheet.
Why can't there be one form for everything? It takes me longer to create the paper trail for an account I open than it does to open the actual account. I was told that Fiscal United Bank was trying to be a green company. All the paper we waste on redundant tracking is only part of the problem. There is a critical time resource that is being misused. Sure, we have some down time at times, else this space would have remained blank in perpetuity. But my brain can't retain enough details per client to put off filling any of these sheets out until later, so if there is a client waiting to be helped, they have to wait longer while I muddle through paper work.
Hopefully one day ConnectionSpot will be able to take what we've done and spit out all of the necessary tracking sheets ready for consumption by management. And actually, I'm pretty sure it already does, else how could our sales coach know if our incentive numbers are correct? So why are we spending so much time drowning in a sea of paperwork?
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Convert This
Southern Star Bank is now Fiscal United Bank. And I have the thirteen day work week to prove it!
We officially converted in name in March. We were forced to work all weekend, after having worked all week, to make sure that everything Southern Star was disposed of, burnt to a crisp, shredded into molecular powder. Seriously, we had to work on Sunday, and I haven't worked on Sunday since I was 17 (I was suspended for two softball games for using profanity as part of a zero-tolerance crackdown).
Needless to say, I was not pleased. Nor was I pleased to have to work on President's Day, despite the fact that the bank was fucking closed. Nor was I pleased to find out that we would be working on Columbus Day this year. Fiscal United is not off to a good start in my eyes. By the time that second Saturday afternoon rolled around, I was ready to claw the eyes out of a bobcat for some sleep. I am a long time sufferer of insomnia, and this stint has not helped.
Between learning all the new systems AND learning the new job, I'm pretty well strung out.
At least the people at the new branch have been treating me with dignity and respect.
We officially converted in name in March. We were forced to work all weekend, after having worked all week, to make sure that everything Southern Star was disposed of, burnt to a crisp, shredded into molecular powder. Seriously, we had to work on Sunday, and I haven't worked on Sunday since I was 17 (I was suspended for two softball games for using profanity as part of a zero-tolerance crackdown).
Needless to say, I was not pleased. Nor was I pleased to have to work on President's Day, despite the fact that the bank was fucking closed. Nor was I pleased to find out that we would be working on Columbus Day this year. Fiscal United is not off to a good start in my eyes. By the time that second Saturday afternoon rolled around, I was ready to claw the eyes out of a bobcat for some sleep. I am a long time sufferer of insomnia, and this stint has not helped.
Between learning all the new systems AND learning the new job, I'm pretty well strung out.
At least the people at the new branch have been treating me with dignity and respect.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Relationship Banker? Really?
Is that what we're calling ourselves now?
Okay, I can see how Fiscal United Bank is looking to make everything a little more personal and enhance the customer relations experience, but why do I suddenly feel like I'm the star of a Will Smith romantic comedy? (Granted, Kevin James and I probably wrestle in the same weight class, but Hitch I am not...)
How exactly does Relationship Banker explain to the customers what my function is? Just seems to me like this is more of the Dilbert-esque corporate lingo doublespeak that gave us such gems as "leveraging our action items into a dynamic corporate synergy." What does that even mean? Where do people come up with this? It's like someone threw business edition poetry magnets at a fridge and used whatever came out as their new mission statement for the quarter.
Whatever happened to the days when your job title actually described what your job was? What was wrong with Client Service Representative? Too long? I can see how they'd likely seek to avoid branding us Client Servicers. That just sounds way too blue. But what made them settle on Relationship Banker? Why not Financial Ingénue? Domestic Partnership Broker? Currencyhandler of Intrigue?
I guess it could be worse. I have been called worse by people I worked for. Just seems like they're hiding us behind an Esperanto-like language of Business English that shall henceforth be known as "Bizinglish."
Here's hoping you can leverage your daily action items into a positive calendar position (or, in non-Bizinglish, "have a nice day.")
Okay, I can see how Fiscal United Bank is looking to make everything a little more personal and enhance the customer relations experience, but why do I suddenly feel like I'm the star of a Will Smith romantic comedy? (Granted, Kevin James and I probably wrestle in the same weight class, but Hitch I am not...)
How exactly does Relationship Banker explain to the customers what my function is? Just seems to me like this is more of the Dilbert-esque corporate lingo doublespeak that gave us such gems as "leveraging our action items into a dynamic corporate synergy." What does that even mean? Where do people come up with this? It's like someone threw business edition poetry magnets at a fridge and used whatever came out as their new mission statement for the quarter.
Whatever happened to the days when your job title actually described what your job was? What was wrong with Client Service Representative? Too long? I can see how they'd likely seek to avoid branding us Client Servicers. That just sounds way too blue. But what made them settle on Relationship Banker? Why not Financial Ingénue? Domestic Partnership Broker? Currencyhandler of Intrigue?
I guess it could be worse. I have been called worse by people I worked for. Just seems like they're hiding us behind an Esperanto-like language of Business English that shall henceforth be known as "Bizinglish."
Here's hoping you can leverage your daily action items into a positive calendar position (or, in non-Bizinglish, "have a nice day.")
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