So I’m sitting in traffic the other day and have nothing to do other than stare at the construction workers milling about. As I watch their bored faces dripping with sweat and dirt, I realize how much in common a bank teller has with them.
Believe it or not, being a bank teller is hazardous. I think a flashing sign needs to be installed in banks that if you verbally or physically attack a teller, there will be a fine or jail time. I was happy to find out when I worked in the drive-thru that we had bullet proof glass. One lady became so enraged at me when I told her what her account balance was, she pounded the glass and then kicked the electronic drawer to the point that when I tried to push the button to bring it back in, it made a noise similar to a dying cat. I’ve had the “normal” things thrown at me- torn up checks that can’t be cashed, wadded up pieces of paper, toothpicks and verbal obscenities. My favorite is my head just narrowly being missed by a lemon sucker by a little brat that was appalled a teller would give him the most unpopular flavor.
I know being a bank teller usually brings up images of air conditioned luxury in clean suits. And that may be true to an extent. But I’ve seen Benjamins with some disturbing things on them- vomit, blood and poo- just to mention a few. And that’s the things I could identify. Equally as disturbing is where some of these bills and checks have been stored. I once had a rather large lady pull a check out of her 38DDD bra. It was coated with a layer of ninety-five degree sweat and dirty BO that made me upchuck in my mouth a little. Needless to say, I can pinpoint where my addiction to hand sanitizer started….
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