A few days ago I went to the bank.
Around January or February, I ran out of checks. FINALLY. I’ve
been working on this single box of checks since I opened my first checking
account nearly 10 years ago. To say that I
rarely
write checks anymore is a gross over-exaggeration of the matter, especially
when the Church started
letting us pay tithing online. (SCORE!)
So running out of checks was not a huge concern. Then, I had
to do taxes, and you can imagine my devastation when—for the first time—I owed the State money.
You are welcome, Utah, for trying to be a stalwart and
upright citizen during the year 2015.
Even the State is upset that
I’m unmarried and childless.
ANYWAY, I needed a check for that. And I needed to order
checks in person, since apparently you can’t do that online for your first check-reorder
(which I guess most people have done before
they are 20?). Whatever. So I stopped by the bank in downtown SLC.
Let me preface this with another story: this particular bank and I
already are on rough terms. Just a few months ago, I desperately needed to take
out a large sum of cash* and GOOGLE said the bank closed at 6:00 pm. That day, I strode
up to the front doors at 5:07 pm only to see this sign:
It’s been a rocky relationship since.
*The cash was not for a criminal activity, FYI
The bank is empty, to my joy. I fill out the necessary
paperwork for my simple request in the deserted bank, all the while thinking, “This
is going to be quick,” and walk up to the teller.
Bless him. Gangly, be-spectacled, messy dark hair, wearing a
light green buttoned shirt and bow-tie, I couldn’t help but think of Bernard, the
librarian from Mega Mind.
His name was Guest
Teller. Here is how our conversation went:
Me: Hi! I’d like to get a cashier’s check, please.
Guest Teller (eyes widen, droplets of sweat instantly appear on his forehead):
What???
Me (confused as to why this request is stressing him out so much
and handing him the paper): I just need a check from the bank to this
recipient.
Guest Teller: Ummmmmmmmmmmmm…
Me (right eyebrow raises): What?
Guest Teller: I really, really, really don’t think I can do
that.
Me (both eyebrows shoot up): Why?
Guest Teller: Well…….. ummmm….
At this point, he frantically starts typing on his computer
and yells to his coworker for help, who is standing about 2 feet away.
Me (eyebrows go up even higher, which I didn’t know was
anatomically possible): Is this a problem?
Guest Teller: Look, just don’t panic, okay.
Me (to myself):
Dude.
I am not panicking. Panic is something that happens when you are trying to pull
your foot out from a boulder 10 feet underwater, or you stumble upon a large
puddle of unicorn blood in a dark forest, or someone unattractive leans in to kiss you…
I am not panicking.
Looking back, he might have actually been talking to himself. By
now, my eyebrows have lowered to the point of obstructing my vision,
but eventually the check is made out, thanks to the support of the coworker.
Guest Teller: Okay, here is your check. Goodbye!
Me (apprehensively): Actually, I need to order some checks.
Guest Teller: Oh my goodness… I don’t think we can do that.
Me (taking charge): Yes, you can.
Guest Teller: No, we don’t do that here.
Me (closing eyes): Yes, you do. This is what the website
told me to do. I just need to order checks.
Guest Teller (shakily, frantically resuming his typing):
Well, okay…… How many boxes of checks do you need?
Me: One please.
Guest Teller: Would you like 5 boxes?
Me: No. I only need one box.
Guest Teller: Well, you just strike me as someone who uses a
lot of checks.
Me (imploring the heavens for patience while simultaneously starting to lose my cool): Idon’tusealotofchecksIhaveliterallyonlyusedoneboxofchecksintenyearsThisismyfirsttimeorderingchecksPleasehelpme.
A bit huffily, he then proceeded to successfully pull up the site for
checks. Wanting to just be done with the whole thing, I said, “Yes, those are
great,” to the first type of check he pulled up. Just as he was about to finish the order, my financial life
(past, present, and future) flashed before my eyes: true panic
started to build. Mental red lights started flashing with alarms blaring.
Those checks had DOGS on them.
Dogs in baskets. Dogs on motorcycles. Dogs with sunglasses.*
*I am not a dog person.
Me (in my brain, like Ralphie from The Christmas Story): Wait,
we are talking about personal checks. I am going to have these checks for another 10-15 years… What impression will this leave on all the people with
whom I associate financially? They are going to think I am a dog person, that I like dogs enough to HAVE THEM IN MY PURSE, and I’ll
be 40 by the time I order checks again! These are crucial building-block
years for both career and social status! What if my future husband sees these checks and gets ideas about a family dog? My "decade of decision" will be MARRED by these canine-canvased checks!
I looked at Guest Teller, my eyeballs practically bulging
out of my skull, perspiration starting to form on my temples.
Me (still in my brain): Wait!!
Stop!!! I can’t suffer from this rash decision forever! LINDA! Wake up stupid!!!!
DOGS ON THE CHECKS? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND??????????
Me (attempting to regain my calm composure, shakily): Um, actually, could I see
some other options?
Guest Teller (possibly thrilled to not be the panicked one,
cheerfully and reassuringly): Of course! I have the hang of it now. Don't worry, we can get what you want.
8 happy minutes later, cute butterfly personal checks were
ordered, and my financial and social future seemed a bit more stable. Guest Teller and I
ended the exchange (haha) on a
friendly and forgiving note, and heart-felt farewells were said. My initial, revengeful
schemes (which involved making billions of dollars, buying out Zions Bank, and
sending the downtown branch into total oblivion) vanished as I skipped
back to work.
Thanks, Guest Teller! You, quite possibly, saved my life. #hero
