Everything I Want, I Gotta Wait a Year

Just over a year ago I graduated from college.  I donned my blue gown, walked across the stage, received my "diploma" from a random administrator, shook T. Haas' hand, and blew a kiss to the arena.  I didn't look back.

Until now. 

During my undergrad I always knew that a career in writing wouldn't pan out for me.  I am not clever enough or experienced to write the next Great American Novel, nor am I dedicated enough.  At some point during my time as a GVSU student, I decided that it wouldn't be so terrible to make a career out of banking.  My managers always told me I could "go all the way" if I really wanted to, and I thought that made sense.  Perhaps that was my excuse to never really give 100%.

But you know what?  I don't want to be a banktress for the rest of my life.  I don't want to tip-toe around the wealthy to keep their business, I don't want to garnish people's wages, and I don't want to explain the reasoning behind petty fees.  I don't want any of it. 

This fall I am headed back to the ivory towers of Grand Valley.  I will take a few more PR classes and hopefully network with some of my professors in hopes of securing letters of recommendation for my grad school applications.  If all goes according to plan, I will then trade in my Laker blue for Spartan green in pursuit of a Master's Degree. 

Remember how I once wrote about my need to count down to things?  I am always looking ahead to the next major event in life.  Well, I'm doing it now.  Perhaps this is what I love so much about public relations.  Its always focused on what's next. 

Good things are next. 

The luckiest people of all

I have been in the customer service industry since I was thirteen. I had a paper route in the seventh grade. It was short lived due to the whole getting up early on Sunday mornings and on Holidays to make sure my customer's newspapers were placed correctly on their front porches. (Riding your bike in the winter time is not easy under snow pants and a friggin' parka.)

I've had my fair share of irate individuals, and if there is one thing I have learned in my nine years of customer service, it is how to deal with these people. Swallow your pride and agree with everything they say. If their voice rises, keep yours low. They are only making a spectacle of themselves. Take the blame while they are present, explain yourself later. Yes it sounds smarmy, but in all honesty, its the easiest way to diffuse the situation and get them out the door.

Yesterday, for the first time in the fifteen months that I have been with National City, I had a customer bring me to the verge of tears. He came in the door blazing. Feeling the need to protect sweet little baby Nihada-bear, I called him to my window.

"Gimme a pen" he demands.

I oblige.

"Gotta deposit slip?"

"For checking, or savings?" I ask, out of instinct.

Silence. I look up.

"Checking..." he says, shaking his head once, the way my uncle Jerry does when he is talking about interacting with people with disabilities or of different races.

I hand him the slip, he fills it out, but not without first berating me for the "stupid" mat on the counter that asks "Does YOUR employer offer a Bank at Work Program?"*

He slides the deposit slip back at me with his driver's license and his unemployment card.

"There's too-thurdy-fore on that card" he says. "I want 200 uhthat in my checking."

Once again, I oblige. I do an advance on his card for $200. I deposit that into his checking account. I complete the transaction, and I hand him his card, account balance, and a receipt. Smiling. Naturally.

"Where's my thirdy-fore dollurz?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you, that's my fault." I reply, with the eloquence of a royal. He hands me his card, I re-run it for the additional $34. Just as I finished that transaction he points out that "they charge me evertime you do that."

"I realize that sir." I reply. Again, eloquence.

Needless to say, what happened next was a series of me trying desperately to please this man, all to no avail. (The conclusion of this story involves a bit of banking jargon, and who has the patience for that?) He grew redder in the face, his voice grew shrill, and other customers began to stare. He began to sputter, telling me how ridiculous the situation was, demanding his money, demanding to use the phone, demanding that I call the unemployment office, demanding to know how anyone could mess this up.

I'd like to say that I sacked up and punched him in the jaw, but I didn't. I kind of like not having to rely on unemployment for my habit of paying bills and putting gas in my car. Instead my eyes began to well up, I began to shake a little bit, and I began to blush. Fortunately my fearless leader, Suada, our head teller (or "Customer Service Leader" in Nat City speak) comes to my defense. She finally ushers the customer out of the branch.

Unfortunately in a banking environment, people are not patient enough to let tellers excuse themselves into the break room and shake off unpleasant interactions. So I plastered on a smile, tried to swallow the quiver in my voice, and turned my attention to the next person in line.

This customer returned today, fulfilling my wildest fantasies. Once again, he induced a flustered and shaky reaction. This time I received a little help from Luke, the fabulous LFC. He told this customer everything I told him, word for word, and while the customer was still irate, he left.

This whole interaction makes me wonder who this guy is. What makes him think that it is okay to interact with people in such a down right dick-like manner? I was taught to treat people with respect and not blow things out of proportion. I understand the frustration of $34 suddenly being out of reach, but the man had a fairly strong balance in his checking account. waiting 24 hours for this amount to be credited to his card was not going to break him.

He vowed that he would return tomorrow, in the event that he had still not been reimbursed.

In my nine years of customer service experience, I have never been dreading a customer interaction more that what is about to happen tomorrow.

And please, dear friends, don't make nice bank tellers cry. They are doing their job the best that they can.

Common Decency and Your Money

As contributors to corporate America, I would like to urge you all to bear ( or bare, in Heidi Montag fashion) the following in mind when you make a trip to the bank.

• Please fill out your deposit/withdrawal slips. Especially if your bank visit involves multiple transactions. You cannot yell at me for making a mistake on your deposit if you cannot adequately verbalize your intentions. By filling out your own slip, you save us both time, and decrease the potential for errors.
• In addition to that, don't get huffy with me when I have to look up your account information because you are too lazy to fill out your own slip.
• I did not personally charge you 4 overdraft fees. So yelling at me is uneccessary and it hurts my feelings. Also, my manager did not personally charge you 4 overdraft fees. However, she does have the authority to refund them. Yelling at me will push me to tell her how much of a jerk you are, and yelling at her will make her less likely to refund said fees.
• Keep a balance, or at least use online banking. When you spend money you don't have, the bank has to loan you the funds to cover it. A $30+ fee is what we charge to finance your fast food/shoe/itunes/alcohol habit. Take responsibility for your lack of responisibility and we'll be pretty nice to you.
• If you are a business and you wait to make all your deposits on one day, at one time, please don't bring all six of them in 15 minutes before we close. That's just bad form.
• I don't know who you are. Unless I do, then you can disregard this one, but really, I don't know your balance, I don't know your last three transactions that cleared, and I don't know when you last ordered checks. Provide me with some identification, and I can check all of those things.
• You may NOT cash other people's checks. I cannot stress this enough. Husbands may not cash their wives checks, mothers may not cash their children's checks, employers may not cash their employees checks. It should be common sense, but for some reason it is not. I have to tell at least five customers each day that I can deposit the check, but cannot cash it. Stop yelling at me about this. Every bank in the country has this policy. It makes you look like an uninformed douche.
• Take your sunglasses off. Otherwise I will trigger my alarm.

Lets all follow these guidelines and we'll all get along just swimmingly.