It's A Kean World

 

BIG BANKS SMALL BANKS AND THE NAME OF YOUR DOG

 

There’s nothing wrong with big banks. I’ve put a small amount of money in a big bank more than once. Big banks have ATM machines at every corner making it easier to get your money and spend it. Then again, maybe that is not really a good thing. Lord knows it is easy enough to spend your money without having it available at every turn. Between credit cards and debit cards and checks and oh yes sometimes even cash, it doesn’t seem very hard to spend your money. One of our problems could be that we spend money we don’t actually have, but as usual I digress.


A lot of big bank branches make an effort to learn your name. They say things like, “Good morning Mr. Jones” and “How are you today Mrs. Smith?” Some of them really try, but they have so many customers that it is hard to get really personal. Often the tellers are moved from one location to another, making it almost impossible for them to learn anything about their customers.


To make transactions secure they frequently have to ask for your driver’s license or some other form of identification. I once went to one of those big banks with my Mom who no longer has a driver’s license. Since I was not on her account, they wouldn’t cash a check for her.


My Mom’s big bank problem would never happen with Charity, Jerri and Beryl. By the way those names have been changed to protect the innocent, and me if they find out about this article. Of course these are three of the nice ladies who work at what I like to refer to as my small bank. They are the ones who provide banking services at the drive through or inside. But the service I get at this bank is not like those huge banks.


Let me tell you a bit about the ladies at my small bank. Charity, whose favorite color is yellow, normally dresses like she is about to take a trip to Key West. I’m talking, lime green, pink, sea blue, and yellow of course. Except for holidays when it might be red, white and blue or a Santa sweater. Jerri on the other hand dresses a bit more on the prim side. She often exchanges shopping tips with my wife who loves her outfits. Beryl looks like a banker, a nice looking banker to be sure, but a banker. I hesitate to consider how these ladies might conduct themselves if they let their hair down.


You know it’s a small bank when they ask about your dog ― by name. You know it’s a small bank when they recall where your wife gets her hair done and reminding her of a big sale is part of the banking service. Sure they might ask how I’m doing, but they seem to actually care about the answer. If I go inside without my wife they will of course inquire about her. They also might ask whether we enjoyed the lunch at Olive Garden or California Pizza Kitchen last week.

Doing your banking at a small bank sort of takes you back to the day when things moved a little slower and everyone took time to actually talk to the people with whom they did business. It is a small town atmosphere in the best sense of the word. So if your banker doesn’t know the name of your dog or where you bought your last pair of shoes, maybe you are missing something.


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