Saturday, April 02, 2011


It's a better title than Vent, I think. Today was a demanding Saturday at work, let me tell you. If you won't let me, you'd better stop reading right here.

Since our branch is all glass (not much of an exaggeration), I see The Man with the Half Dollars get out of his car and think, shit, every time I work a Saturday...Mr. Fifty Cent hauls all these halves up to our change machine, boxes and boxes of them. He's always dressed as if he's just walked out of Joseph Banks and looks like he's spent much of at least the past decade in a gym. He's all business, and doesn't want this to take very long. However, before he brings me his receipt to be cashed out, he will insist that it's a dollar short, since he knows exactly how much he's put in there. I will be obliged to come out with the key and pull that blasted machine apart, put my hands in its dirty inards, and either find the half dollars or not. I find nothing, we find nothing. My supervisor comes up and does her own broken record routine about how the machine is tested twice a day, this is all we can do, and then she winds up giving him a ten dollar satisfaction check for his trouble. Which we have to run into the vault to get. And while we're in there, she says, he's a scam artist. I say, I don't really see how. It's a heck of a way to make--ten bucks? He seems OCD to me.

When we get out there, he's very gracious, and states that he really didn't want a ten dollar check, he just wanted it to be right, and here, he's brought us two enormous Hershey Special Dark bars for our trouble, yada yada. I deposit his special check and cash him out--in hundreds. Twenty five hundred. (After he ran out to his car to obtain that extra dollar change. In halves, of course.) I'm not charmed at all. Even if I could eat dark chocolate*, I wouldn't eat his. Even if he were both good looking and straight. I would have loved to just take that dollar difference and call it an even $2500, just to see his well-sculpted ass walk out the door.

Supervisor acted like she'd won something.

Little did I know that Fifty Cent Man would be among my easiest customers. The most difficult customer of the day was apparently very used to ordering others about. I'm guessing he's used to having an army of secretaries and underlings who have the pleasure of enjoying him on a regular basis. He had a $2950 check to cash and he needed it back in a very specific way. Now, write this down: I need an envelope labeled Katie with $100 in ones, $100 in fives, $200 in tens, and $100 in twenties. Next, I'll need an envelope labeled Ed which will contain $420 in fives, $420 in tens, and $360 in twenties. Then Don's envelope will have $100 in ones, $100 in fives, and $200 in tens. Then, there will be six envelopes for the cash prizes, and those amounts are $250, $200, $150, $125, $75, and $50. You can make those any bills you'd like.

Oh, how eye-rollingly boring: the teller's actually going to add up all the numbers to make sure they total $2950, as if he doesn't know what he's doing! He's checking the amounts as I do them, trying to tell me how to make this easier, ordering paperclips, rubber bands, and scotch tape. It was really rough, counting all that out while trying to ignore him. And, when we were finally done, he says, can you tell I've been in banking for twenty years? It was like the setup for a punch line I wasn't allowed to pronounce.

Before I left work, Supervisor said, you're not taking your candy?

I'll stop there. It was a busy day, then I came home and napped, and now I'm going to have popcorn and beer and forget about it. See? That was easy. Thanks for listening.

*to compound the headache


Doug said...

I don't get the half dollars. Where do you suppose the half dollars come from? Do you think he's a semi-stripper?

Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

TLP said...

What a sh*tty work day!

I don't get the half dollars either. But then the halves are easy compared to his asshole self.

And the second jerk is just that: a total JERK.

Ariel the Thief said...

I am stunned. Here if the person on the other side of the counter doesn't look annoyed for your entering and wanting them things to do, that counts as nice. I'd like to be there when a costumer tries to act like those of yours. Oh the other day one was given a lecture on his putting one foot on some area of the floor where he should have not while having a chat with the security guy, it was really just one foot, and the area was not visibly separated but the covering of the floor changed there. :)

Faycin A Croud said...

If I have a jar of change I take it to one of those Coin Star machines and pour it in. And if I need to divvy my money up between envelopes, I would ask for tens and twenties and do it myself. I don't like it when people treat customer service people as if they were servants.

actonbell said...

Mom and Doug, I hear that he actually orders those halves from a bank (I don't know where), then uses our bank for the free coin counting. Is he one of those collectors looking for a special item? Dunno. We do have a couple customers who will order a box of coin, only to go through it and dump out what they don't want, but those guys never quibble about the machine's accuracy. After all,it is free.
Heh, Doug, the semi-stripper idea is a good one!

Ariel, we do indeed live in different worlds. We have to be very careful not to show too much annoyance with customers where I work. In fact, the idea is to provide amazing service. Unfortunately, we're not staffed well enough for this; lines form behind people who come unprepared or with extravagant requests.

Faycin, if I ever get suddenly canned, it might be for suggesting that perhaps someone might wanna walk their foolish selves across the parking lot to the Coin Star at the grocery store. They'd get charged for that, though, so. And yes, a normal man would have walked away with all the bills he needed and done the business himself. In fact, we have a room with a phone and a table we let people use, if they should need a phone and table before they go. Yep. At least this guy's not my boss.