I'm a teller!

So I just started my new job as a 1stBank teller. (Sorry, bread lovers, but Panera and I have parted ways.) My new job is basically amazing... apart from the aches caused by standing in heels for 9 hours. (With Panera pay, I couldn't afford new shoes... and now with teller hours, I don't have time to buy any!) As soon as I get the chance, though, I'm going to get me some flat "Grandma shoes," as one helpful teller put it. Of course, I'm not known for my stylish footwear and, to be honest, I like "ugly", "Grandma" shoes anyway. So this works out great. (Plus, isn't Payless having another two-for-one sale?!)

So after two days, I already have adventures to talk about. The bank is a suprisingly good place to encounter delightful people. Because we can look up account information, you learn fun details about other people- like their real names. One customer had a joint account with his father. No problems there... except that his father's name was Oscar Weiner. That's his real name. Oscar must think it's really funny too, because he named his son Richard. So that's Oscar Weiner and his adult son... Dick Weiner. Sounds like a nice, good-humored family.

We have a coin-counter at our location, which means we have customers coming in with bags (or any other container, as I'm about to entail) full of coins for us to sort and deposit. One high school girl came in with a Corona bottle full of coins. The only problem? The bottle was about three feet tall. She came in with her equally idiotic BFF, heaved it onto the counter and I (laughing the whole time) had to carry the thing, full of loose change, over to the coin counter to process. And then, of course, she wanted it back. You don't want to lose a keepsake like that, especially when you're not old enough to buy the real thing.

A mother brought her darling nine-year-old son in to deposit his piggy bank change. The only problem? The little guy had gotten bored one night and had dumped all the coins into some container of water. Furthermore, Junior decided to leave them there for a while. (By the looks of the corroded coins, it had been a few months.) What makes it better is that our machine counter won't take wet coins... so Mommy and Son agreed to come back in an hour to give us time to dry them- four different tellers got to work on drying every single piece of change. We're not talking a few pennies, either- this was a hundred dollars' worth of coins. All wet and, being money, extremely dirty. At least Mom made him apologize for the hassle; a teller smiled and responded, "that's ok- you just need a better outlet for your creativity."

I'll be sure to keep you posted on the tales of being a teller.