Take That to the Bank.

I don't want to start out by saying, "when I was a kid..." and then launch into a lengthy explanation about why a specific time in my life was better than what might be going on now.

That said, when I was a kid the world was more personalized. Yes it was. We were nowhere near as automated as we are now.

I remember walking to the bank on the corner with my Grandma when I was about seven or eight. Once we arrived, my Grandma would tell me to sit in one of the chairs and wait for her while she took care of her banking business. I specifically remember sitting in a standard vinyl chair that stuck to the back of my legs if I happened to be wearing shorts. But I was comfortable. I would leaf through whatever magazine was sitting on the table next to me. McCall's. Woman's Day. Life. Just sit there and flip through them, not really reading them of course. I was just happy to be spending time with my Grandma. When it was my Grandma's turn to be helped by the teller, the teller would always look over at me and wave or wink. Once a man who I will now assume was the Bank Manager came out to see me and brought me a cupcake and asked me if I was having a nice day. I said yes, I was, between large bites of chocolate goodness. One time when I was there with Grandma the same Bank Manager came out to the lobby area where I sat and gave me some paper coin rollers and told me that if I saved my coins and rolled them up and brought them back to him, he would give me dollar bills. That thought appealed to me.

I liked going to the bank with Grandma. Going to the bank with Grandma always meant I would be treated well by bank employees, given free cupcakes and coin rollers and pens with the bank's name embossed on the side. One time one of the tellers gave me a Kennedy Half Dollar. I still have it.

That was then. This is now.

One morning this past week I got up and went on one of my typical cleaning binges. You know the kind. No cushion left unturned. In the process I found a long forgotten velvet drawstring bag from some shoe company that I had filled with coins and forgot about. The bag weighed about nine pounds. No kidding.  I thought about dragging them up to someplace with a Coinstar location and dumping them and getting them counted, but then I remembered the fee. No thanks. That's when I decided I would spend an afternoon in the air conditioning rolling them myself.

First, of course, I needed some paper coin rollers. I could buy a bag of them at the store. But then I remembered I could get them free at the bank.

So guess where I went next?

These days I usually don't physically go into the bank unless I have official business to do that requires a teller, which, like most people these days, is rare. But today I went into the bank, my regular branch, mind you, to get me some paper coin rollers.

I was in a pretty good mood. Sun was out. My hair didn't look to humidity damaged. My California tan still looked fresh. Life was good. I was having a good day.

I walked into the bank and got in line behind two people. Two people. One was already at the teller counter sounding like he was finishing up. The lady in front of me was the only other person in the bank besides me and bank employees. There didn't seem to be anybody at the drive thru, either.  There were three tellers standing behind their respective counters. Two were open and one was talking on the phone. Out of the two who were open only one was taking care of customers. The other one sounded like she was talking business on the phone with a friend.  I heard snippets of her conversation that involved the phrases, "just bring it tonight when you get to the bar", "yeah, I know, they broke up last week" and "I love Jagermeister!"  Okay, I thought. There's just me and this other lady in front of me to be waited on. I guess she doesn't need to have her window open. Besides, maybe she's on a break.

The woman in front of me is called to the teller window. She takes care of her business and within seconds she is done. I could not hear her exchange with the teller. They were talking quietly. When she gets ready to leave and turns around, I notice she is rolling her eyes. Hmmm, I thought. Wonder what's wrong with her. She looks ticked off.  She leaves.

Now, it's my turn to be waited on.

I approach the teller's window. I smile at her and say politely, "Hi. Can I just get some of those paper coin rollers?"

Without cracking a smile or greeting me back she says, "How many do you need?"
"Uh, about ten of every kind I guess" I reply.
"But how many do you need?"she asks. I'm like, really? I repeat my answer.
"About ten of every kind will do the trick" I say, still smiling.The teller sighs.
"Just a minute. I have to see if we have that many" she mumbles. I was sort of surprised.

You have to see if we have that many? What?
I wait patiently while she leaves her window for a second and goes to another window that's closed and she takes a key from a nearby filing cabinet and uses it to open a drawer and she looks inside the drawer and then closes it right away again and walks back over to her window where I am. She is empty handed.

"I can give you about five of the penny counters and five or six of the nickel and dime ones. I can't give you any for quarters" she says, matter of factly.

"What do you mean? This is a bank. I have years worth of coins to roll. I need more than that. Are you telling me that you are out of coin rollers?"  She doesn't reply at first. Then she says, quite serious in tone, "would you like to talk to my supervisor?"

What? Is she serious?

"No" I reply, a bit frustrated, "I don't want to talk to your supervisor. I just want some coin rollers. What's the problem?"

"Well if you need a large quantity of coin rollers I will have to charge you for them" she said, quite seriously.

What. The. Hell?

"You're kidding me, right? I've been a bank customer here for nearly thirty years. I have four different accounts here. My entire family banks here. And you're telling me that you need to charge me for a few of those stupid paper coin rollers? Geez. When I was a kid I remember my parents brought home a free toaster when they opened an account here when you guys were under a different name! Now I can't even get coin rollers?"

The teller, about a generation younger than I, leaned over her counter and said to me, firmly but quietly, "That must have been a long time ago. This bank doesn't give out kitchen appliances when you open an account. We give you fifty dollars when you open a new checking account here. Would you like to see a brochure?"

Now I was ready to smack her.

"Did you hear me just now when I said I have four different accounts here? I'm good. I don't need a brochure today. I just need some coin rollers. The last time I got them they were free. And I could get as many as I wanted" I said.

"How many years ago was that, ma'am?" she asked me.

Oh, Lord, I wanted to smack her sooooo bad. I looked behind me. Still no one else had come in since I had. The bank was literally empty except for me and the employees. I glanced around once and noticed a bank employee sitting in a cubicle typing on her computer.

"Actually, the teller windows are for cash and check transactions. If you want to buy some coin rollers you can go see the representative at that desk over there" the teller said then, pointing to the same woman in the cubicle who was typing on her computer.

"I don't want to buy coin rollers. I want you to give me some free like I know this bank can afford to do for a customer who has been a customer here since 1977. A customer who has four different accounts here. A customer whose family has accounts here. Why is this such a big deal? All you have to do is go back to that drawer with your key and open it and give me some coin rollers. Ten of each kind is not going to throw this bank into ruin. I feel like I'm on Candid Camera." She stared at me, confusion etched on her face. The reference to the show "Candid Camera" was lost on her. I should have said "That reality show called The Real Snotty Bank Tellers of Southeastern Michigan,"  a modern day reference that she would understand.

"Just a minute, please" she said to me then and excused herself. She disappeared through a door behind the teller's area and was gone for about a minute. When she came back she brought a smart dressed man in a suit with her. His name badge said,  "Gregory. How Can I Help You?"

Was I being arrested for asking for asking for free coin rollers? What was going on?

"Hi there. I understand you want some paper coin rollers and you don't want to pay for them?" he said.

I was mortified.

"I wouldn't put it like that. I just needed a few of each kind and all of a sudden you want to charge me for them? That's kind of unreasonable. And then she (I glance at the teller) tells me out of the blue then that if I want to do this kind of business I need to go see the woman at the cubicle over there. What in the world kind of joke is this? Do you know how many years I have been a customer at this bank? Do you?" I said, this time rather loudly.

"I understand your frustration but you have to understand that we have to charge certain fees for certain things now."

I was getting a pretty good idea now why the woman in line ahead of me a few minutes before left with her eyes rolling toward the heavens.

"You know I could've just went to Target this morning and got some of those rollers" I said, obviously pissed off.

"And they would charge you for them" Greg the Smart Ass replied. Then I rolled my eyes at Greg.
"That's because Target is a store where they sell things and taking them would be shoplifting! This is a bank where I have done business for 30 years! That kind of loyalty deserves a few free paper coin rollers don't you think?"

Man I was wound up now.

Greg said, "Angie here says that when you came in you originally asked for ten each of each kind. If you only need one or two..."

Aaaahhhhhhh. I want to reach over the counter and strangle Greg. And I want to punch Angie the Teller. I want to scream. But who would hear me? It's just me and this crazy bank staff full of stingy tellers and a bank manager named Greg who is talking to me like I'm five.

I glance up at the security cameras and make a face that seems to say, "Are you getting all this for the news at eleven?"

Finally, after all that and then some, Greg caves, turns to Angie and says, "Give this lady ten each of the coin rollers" and then he looks at me and says, but still talking to Angie, "but only give her five of the ones for quarters."

He said it like, "And make sure she doesn't try to get six out of you!"

Somebody stop this insanity. Please. Greg smiled at me then and said, "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

Oh, the shit that went through my head that I wanted to say at that point. But I didn't say anything. I was the bigger person. Besides, I was tired. I nodded no. Greg disappeared a few seconds later through the door from whence he came. Angie walked over to the drawer, stuck her key in and pulled out a handful of coin rollers. She counted them carefully. I called over to her, "Now remember, only five for the quarters! We don't want to cause the bank to collapse because of me!"

She didn't laugh. She brought the rollers over to me, rubber banded them together and handed them to me. And then, to my honest surprise, as I turned to leave she said to me, "Oh, just so you know for next time? You can do stuff like this at the drive thru window."

I turned back around and looked at her, true anger in my eyes now.

"What?" I said to her.

"You can do this at the drive thru next time" she repeated.

"Bite me, Angie" I mumbled at her, but still loud enough for her to make out what I said.

"I beg your pardon?" she said.

"You heard me" I replied.

Yes, she did.

Post Script:

A few days ago I needed some quarters for laundry. I went back to the bank again to buy a couple rolls. My beloved Angie the Teller was nowhere to be seen. Today, I had to deal with a different teller. A new, and hopefully improved teller.

This was not to be.

I got Lorraine. I stepped up to her window and presented her with my twenty dollar bill and forced a smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I just want to buy some quarters. Two rolls. That's all" I replied.

"Do you have an account here?" she snapped. What? Is she serious?


"Yeah, I have like three accounts here. Why?"

"Swipe your check card please" she said then, motioning toward the card scanner to my right.

No effing way.


As I proceeded to swipe my check card, I asked her why I had to do this.

"So we know you have an account here" she answered in her snippy tone.

I'd had about enough of this bullshit.

"You know I was just in here about a week ago needing some coin rollers and your teller Angie wanted me to pay for them. Now I have to have an account here before you'll sell me a roll of quarters? What kind of nonsense is this? I'm giving you a twenty dollar bill. Cash. I'm not writing you a check or giving you a zillion unrolled pennies. What difference does it make if I have an account here or not?"

Yeah. I was mad.

"It's the new rule" she replied, getting my quarters out of a drawer and placing them in front of me.  I took them and stuffed them in my bag and got ready to leave. She smiled at me and said, "Thank you for banking with us today, Ms. Morgan."

Oh really? Now I'm Ms. Morgan with a smile because I just proved to you that I have an account here by swiping my card in your mighty presence? What the hell? Get off your high horse, Teller Queen.

"The new rule, huh?  How does that rule read on paper? 'We will make every attempt to make our customers feel like crap the minute they ask us for anything that is outside the realm of a car loan or a 30 year fixed mortgage. This essentially means that if you come in here and ask us for a roll of quarters of a paper roller to shove them in, we will not be obliging this request until we've succeeded in making you feel like an out of town visitor.'  Is that how the new rule reads?" I asked her.

She just stared at me. I squinted and leaned in to read her name badge. Lorraine.

"Is that correct Lorraine?" I asked her.

"Well, Ms. Morgan..."

"Well Lorraine? It's like this" I started in a loud whisper, "I was banking here when you were still waddling around your playpen in Pampers. When you were learning how to walk I was opening my first savings account. When you were starting kindergarten I was getting my first credit card. And when you were tormenting your first babysitter I was experiencing my first direct deposit. So don't Ms. Morgan me. As far as I'm concerned, when I come into this bank and ask you for a roll of quarters and I give you a twenty dollar bill to buy them I don't want a hassle or some lecture about the new rule. As a matter of fact, when I come into this bank I want to be treated like royalty whether I have five bucks in my account or five million, got it?"

Lorraine was listening. Kind of.

"The next time I come into this bank I want you to treat me like my last name is Trump, got it?"

Still listening, she was.

She nodded nervously.

"Who?" I asked her.

"Trump" she replied.

"Atta girl."

I turned around to leave. This time there was a woman who looked to be a few years older than me waiting her turn. As I brushed past her I winked at her and said, "I broke her in. She's all yours."

Let this be a lesson to you little smart ass teller children who think you can tell me it's a new rule and I will go away.  I won't go away. I've paid my dues. I'm older than you and not easily bullied.

It's called good customer service. It's not my rule. It's the rule.

Today it is very obvious that brick and mortar bank buildings do not want me in their building. Not physically, anyway. They want me to bank online. They want me to use the ATM. They want me to use the drive-thru. And I do. Quite frequently. And I don't mind. I am a creature of progress.

But something is really wrong when an institution like a bank gets so impersonal that they can't be bothered when I need some coin rollers or quarters. YOU'RE A FRICKIN' BANK. THAT'S WHERE THE MONEY IS.

I don't like being treated like I'm imposing on you when I need your help. Especially when you are handling and in charge of MY MONEY. When I need to do business with you that requires human interaction, don't give me B.S.  Give me good service.

When you are handling my money, you will turn cartwheels for me if I want you to, got it? You will say yes ma'am and no ma'am and thank you ma'am. Yes. You will.

So let this be a lesson to all you Gregs and Angies and Lorraines out there in Banking Land. CUSTOMER SERVICE. JOB ONE.

That's right. The next time I walk into the bank and ask you for a roll of quarters or a crisp fifty to put inside a birthday card? You do it. That's right. Just do it. When I walk into the bank where I have three accounts you look up at me when I enter the bank and you say, "Good Morning. How are you today? WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY?

Well, let's see. You can start by not pissing me off. 


Always a good place to start.



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