The Same Thing Happens Every Month
This Wednesday was one of those off-beat days at the bank where nothing seems to go right. In fact, it was designed to piss me off; this very fascinating day. But luckily for me, thanks to a trip to the barbershop, and some unforeseen tickets to the Knicks/Timberwolves game (Knicks blew 'em away!! 100-87), all's well that ends well.
We start off with my fifteen minute break time. Right before one of my clients comes up to me for assistance, the supervisor tells me to take my fifteen. Seeing that the client was waiting for me, I attempted to inform her to get someone else. In my interacting with the client, the supervisor says to me that I must respect the break schedule, for it is unfair to the other associates when I delay breaks by a minute or two. Now, I never argued about the breaks before, never had problems with lunch; in fact, due to the hectic area the bank posessess, I found myself taking short lunches and even shorter breaks. When breaks started becoming more important than customer service, I don't know. But I inhaled heavily, and went to break.
Throughout the day, it seemed as if when I slow my pace, a line starts to form. This is often true when one or two guys (no disrespect, ladies) is working at the windows. But, on a day so slow, having a line is damn near ridiculous. I won't say where the other tellers were, but it was quite clear that if I don't move, the line grows.
This became ever so apparent when I was sent to remove some old electronic junk from the supply room. I took a dude with some strength with me to accomplish the task (the only other guy working at the window) and we removed the junk. I come back to question an old toner cartridge, when lo and behold, there was a line. Even funnier, the supervisor (aforementioned from before) questions me on why I took the other teller to assist me. As if to say I was doing this by myself, I laughed at the question, literally laughed at it, brought the other guy back upstairs, and in minutes eliminated the line. Lesson learned: if something's to be done right, remove waste before starting.
Now to the fascinating part, the day's end. I speak to a client over the phone regarding some transfer to his account; and because he was waiting, and had missed me during my lunch break, it never materialized. I offered him the chance to return, saying I'd be open by closing time. Nine minutes before three, I was told to close and start check encoding. Remembering that the client would be waiting for me, I decided not close until 3PM exactly, and go straight to check encoding (when you're three feet away, and have the fastest hands in the bank, you can do some amazing things.) The supervisor returns, realizing I've yet to prove, yet am encoding the checks. Rather than find out why, or at least have the branch manager find out why, she takes it upon herself to scream down my neck to prove, stating how I want things my way, how I have problems, etc... Realizing I was getting pissed off, I cooled it down, and proved. No sooner do I pack my cash away, the client shows up. Needless to say, a lot of apologies were sent, and because I have never in all my time screwed up any of his transactions, he decided to wait until Friday to complete his work with me.
Think of it, two customers in one day were unneccesarily inconvenienced. And why...
still figuring it out...
I'd better not say.
Well, I finish check-encoding and all other tasks for the day. But when I audit the checks to match the banks figures...
They're out by $5,000.
I sit there, for fifteen minutes, going teller proof by teller proof, check figure by check figure, to find this difference. I use up all available options, until I come to the timely conclusion:
The ATM machine checks are off.
I then refer the difference to the person who did the ATM checks, who just happens to be the supervisor's 'protege'. How quaint!! At first, she believes the difference isn't hers, but after a somewhat thorough investigation, it is hers. Taking a small break, I start chatting with the teller that helped me with the electronic junk from the supply room. The conversation the protege and I have next is something of an unbelievable, yet common experience:
protege:Hey, I think I found it. If you add these two numbers together; add them up and see what you get...
me:Hold on, what did you say?
protege: ***Agitated*** C'mon! You're holding us all up! Now add these two numbers together, and...
me:First up, how am I the one holding us all up?
protege:You're standing there, just chatting away, and these checks need to be finished.
me:Oh, they are finished. As soon as you fix your error, they'll be good to go.
protege: ***Loudly, and rather nastily*** Look, this is no time to point figures, all right? (I know she meant to say fingers, but I have to tell you what was said, the way it was said.) Everybody wants to go home. Now quit wasting time and help me fix the checks.
me: ***In reciprocation*** Wasting time? You know what's wasting time? You standing there talking down to me when a bloody calculator is sitting right behind you! Wasting time is me fighting to find a difference because of a screw up you made. Don't talk to me about wasting time. This here (in reference to the conversation) is wasting time.
protege: Look, if you're not gonna be helpful, and find the difference, then just sign out and go home.
supervisor: If you're part-time and have proved up, you may go home.
me: Agreed.
So, what do you think I did?!! I signed out, took my belongings, and headed home.
Which was where I wanted to be in the first place.
Not that I wouldn't have stayed and finished what I started. But when assinines so bold and bitchy can come at you like all of this is your fault, you don't need to stay in a hostile environment like that. So I bounced. And I had every right to.
So, what does leaving work before everyone else get me? It got me to the barbershop earlier than expected, so I can get my grizzly beard removed. It got me seats to MSG's Knicks/Timberwolves game. And I was still fairly pissed about what happened. But when silver linings come around, they have a way of removing all the bad vibes from you.
So you see, we are dumb, but we are not so dumb. It takes great pains to lack intelligence.
Translation: I'm a arrogant defiant summabitch, or am I?! It takes great intelligence to get what you really want.
And there was nothing I wanted more, especially at that point in time, than to go home... to Madison Square Garden.
