Thursday, April 17, 2014

The Big Bad Bank Teller

Here's an amusing story I once wrote, about the Big Bad Wolf and the bank teller who one-upped his 'tude. 

The Big Bad Bank Teller

I’m not the villain I used to be.  The times were once good for me, and the art was simple.  Just be bad.  They’d say, “Be as bad as you wanna be.  The good guy always wins.”  So, I figured, the badder, the better.  I knew my role.  But that was a long time ago. 
            Today is Wednesday, two days before I have to make payroll.  It starts to rain outside, so I rush into the Fifteenth National Bank on Hargrove Avenue, (celebrities have to keep things discreet,) so I can deposit my latest royalty check from DreamWorks.  “Should be no big deal,” I tell myself.  I’ve got payroll set up and checks already pre-written to my crew for Friday.  My check is burning in my grip – it’s a big one, and I don’t feel comfortable having it exposed.  Not that I can’t defend myself, I’m just not in the mood for that all the time.
            The line is long for some reason. I mean it’s 10:30 a.m. and a thoughtful person would expect either quicker service or fewer customers, especially at a bank that isn’t even trying to be the biggest kid on the block.  So I wait.  I look over at the tellers and who they’re serving.  There’s a real fruit loop of a lady chatting with this one teller who looks like that nutty guy from Anchorman.  They’re chatting away about her mortgage as if they’re talking about a wild spring break in Cancun.  Then, one spot over, there’s this poor sap trying to get away without filling out another form.  The teller he’s stuck with looks like she reads her training manual to her kids every night.  I’m hoping I can skip over her.  Over to the right, there’s this Troy Aikman-looking guy with a jug full of change.  He’s going to be a while, and his teller has this toothpaste-commercial smile like Saddam Hussein could ask her out and she’d say “Certainly, sir!”
            Anyway, after fifteen minutes of shuffling around in line, I’m up next.  Troy Aikman’s still giving his teller the Coinstar treatment, and my check is still bothering me.  I’m getting antsy, so I look over it again to make sure my signature is perfect and the account number is correct.  While I’m reading, I hear, “Next please.”
            It’s the training manual lady.  Great.  I walk up and explain to her that I need to deposit my $48,000 check.  Simple enough, right?  Nope.
“Sir, I need two forms of identification and your thumbprint for a deposit of this size,” she says.  I cringe. 
I fire back with, “I’m Big.  I’m Bad.  I’m a Wolf.  What more do you need?”
“As I said, sir, two forms of ID and your thumbprint.”
“Does it look like I have thumbs?  No.  I’m a WOLF!”
I sling my driver’s license on the ledge, and as I hunt for my credit card, I notice her nametag says “Katrina Bedlam.”  Oh, there’s a real pleasure.  I hand over my credit card, and she walks off.  Right then, the toothpaste lady calls her next customer.  Forty-five seconds later and I would have had it easy.  I guess the bad guy never wins, even if he’s trying to make financial transactions.
            She comes back. 
“Funds will be available in seven business days minimum.”  Yeah, there’s good news.  So I explain it in simple terms.

“Are you kidding?  I need this by Friday!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wolf. We need to verify these funds are available from the other bank,” she says.  I glance at her, and the only emotion she shows is a slightly noticeable smirk.  It fades away in seconds.
I tell her, “Hello!  It says ‘DreamWorks’ right on the top!  I think it’s a good check!” 
Swimming in frustration, I start regretting my role in the Shrek movies.  I thought it would be fun to play along and do something different in movies, but I question myself sometimes.  As I ponder… she says:
“My, what a big attitude you have!”
Oh hell no.  Now it’s back to business.  I think fast.  I’m going to have to undo the deposit and drive two hours to cash this check at DreamWorks’ bank.
“Listen, just cancel the deposit.  I gotta pay my crew.”
She gets this hoity-toity look and hands it over.  Finally, the end of this nightmare.  I flick her the middle claw and high-tail it out of there.  While I walk past, the security guy in the corner gives me the evil eye.  I realize my whole day is wasted because of this mess.  The check still bothers me since it’s worth so much money.  I grip it tight, and as I walk out of there, I think to myself, “If I’d been younger I could have huffed and puffed and blown this standalone banking center down.”

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