Among the many jobs I have held over the course of my life, I once worked as a teller at South Shore Bank in Randolph, Massachusetts, where I frequently staffed the drive-up window.
Mark Wahlberg actually banked with us back when he was known as Marky Mark and couldn’t keep his pants up on stage. Over about 18 months, I waited on him several times. Despite his overnight success, Wahlberg and I are the same age, so we always had things to talk about while I processed his transactions.
I chose to work in the drive-up window whenever possible because it was the busiest station in the bank, so it was the best way to avoid boredom.
It was also the most universally despised station in the bank, so my coworkers were happy to let me have it. However, I was working two jobs at the time – more than 18 hours a day – so I didn’t have much free time for entertainment. Anything I could do to keep my mind active was a plus.
At one point, the high volume of customers at the drive-up created a problem for me. When bank tellers reconcile their drawers at the end of the night, they are allowed to be plus or minus a certain amount of money.
A small amount, of course, but mistakes happen.
Things may be different today with the ubiquity of computers, but back then, we were working on more primitive teller machines, so errors were common.
My drawer was consistently off by more than my coworkers’ – not by much, but enough to be noticeable – so my manager called me into his office one day to reprimand me and threaten my job.
I pointed out that if I were processing 500 transactions a day and my coworkers were only processing 50 transactions (which was about the ratio at the time), it was only natural that I would make more errors.
He disagreed. He was an idiot.
Even with the high volume of customers at the drive-up, I found plenty of time to write while waiting for them. I would work on short stories, poems, and letters to friends, for which I was also later reprimanded.
Even though I had no customers when I was writing, I was told that I should look ready at any moment to help a customer and should therefore not have my head down, scribbling on paper.
It wasn’t the easiest time in my life. It was also the time in my life when I was sharing a room in the home of a family of Jehovah’s Witnesses with their pet goat while awaiting trial for a crime I did not commit.
It was also during this time that I was the victim of an armed robbery that would result in years of post-traumatic stress disorder.
My idiot manager was annoying, but he was the least of my troubles.
When my wife sent me photos of my son working at the pretend bank in the local library, specifically in the pretend drive-thru, it sent shivers down my spine.
Rightfully so.
