Crying In The Bank

Hello and good day!

We have a few vendors we pay who like to receive cash.They'd prefer to avoid credit card processing fees and apparently they like to have some walking around money in their wallet, and so I go to the bank every other week to take out money.

I normally work with a particular teller who knows the specifics of my transactions. Working with her saves me time by allowing me to get in and out quickly. There was a long line in the bank yesterday and when I made it to the front, my preferred teller wasn't available.

I knew the other gal who was working, and she is a good person. I figured she'd be able to handle my business expeditiously. However, when it was my turn to approach, she didn't call me right over.

There is a strange decorum about standing at the front of a bank line.You are supposed to wait for permission to approach the counter. Sometimes you can see the teller writing a note or typing on the computer and you assume they are wrapping up the previous transaction. You don't mind giving them a grace period. You understand that it is necessary, and you wait patiently.

But sometimes, it drags on, and you wonder if you ought to break through the formality and walk up on your own say so.You get into a little fight with yourself. You think, "should I? or shouldn't I?".

I was looking at this gal and she wasn't writing or typing or anything. She was staring into space and looking very sad. She pulled a tissue from a tissue box and dabbed at her eyes. There was a sniffle.

Meanwhile, I was standing at the front of the line waiting, and I could feel the people behind me growing impatient. They felt I should make a move, I could tell. Finally, she looked over at me and waved me forward. She didn't say anything. She just waved.

I advanced.

I've run into this woman at the park several times. She has two little kids, a three-year-old and a five-year-old, and she has always struck me as a very good and loving mom. Even though the line was long, and the other customers were growing restless,

I thought it only proper to engage in a bit of preparatory small talk. "Good to see you! How are your kids?" I said.She looked at me with watery eyes and pursed her lips. "They're doing good. They're in school."

"How's it going? Do they like it?""My daughter loves preschool, and my son loves kindergarten, and I miss them so much because they are growing up so fast." Tears jumped the shore and streamed down her cheeks.

"You're sad about them liking school?" "No. I'm sad that they don't need me like they used to."She used another tissue to dab away the tears. "One day they are born and they're little and you're taking care of them, and they need you for every little thing and next thing you know they are riding a school bus to school and talking about their friends and you're not the center of their lives anymore." She was struggling with emotion. It was one of those days for her.

I was torn. As somebody who genuinely likes people and finds this type of emotional overload quite fascinating, I wanted to delve into why exactly this situation was so challenging for her.

On the other hand, I'm a business owner who tries to encourage great customer service wherever I go, and also, I'd like to be a good citizen who contributes to an orderly and conscientious society, and I knew that I was holding up the line.

As such, I rolled out a very awkward segue to the business at hand. "I know. Kids grow up so fast. Somedays you wish they'd stay little forever. Hang in there, I think you'll be alright.

By the way, here is my withdrawal slip. I need the amount separated into several smaller amounts." "Oh, your transaction. That's right. I'm sorry to go on about my personal problems." "It's fine. I wouldn't mind hearing more, but I don't want to hold up the line." "You're right. I just miss them, that's all." She inhaled another sniffle through her nose and began working on my transaction.

The other teller, the one I usually work with, was making hay. She was cranking customers through.In middle of my transaction, the gal I was working with put my money in the money counting machine and then sort of paused mid action. She froze in thought.

My regular teller held up an index finger to her customer to request a second away. She walked over and whispered, "come on now, everything will be alright". The distraught mother snapped to and pushed the button that made the bills shuffle.

The other teller went back and started whizzing them through again. When my transaction was complete, I grabbed the printed receipt and put it in my pocket. "Hang in there," I said. "Only thirteen more summers with my son," she mumbled, more to herself than to me.

As I walked out, I looked back, and I saw that the next person in line was fighting with the same conundrum I had been tussling with a few minutes earlier. Should they walk right up? Or wait?

Anyhow, here is the whole point of sharing this story with you.

Everybody is dealing with something.My mom has a good friend laying on his death bed right now. They've got him on a morphine drip to keep his cancer from causing him pain as he fades out of life. His wife is about to become a widow.

Life runs the gambit from transcendently great to heartbreakingly terrible, and everything in between. Sometimes you're weak. Sometimes you're strong. When you're strong, that is a good time to be patient and supportive rather than cocky.

If a bank teller wants to cry a little bit during your transaction, and if you're feeling strong, it's probably best to show some grace and not make her feel bad.

I know for sure that when I am feeling weak, I like it when a person is tender and understanding with me. I wouldn't want anybody to beat me up over a few minutes, especially because most people have a few minutes to spare if they are being completely honest.

A tight knit community means not being harsh with one another if we can avoid it.

Thank you so much for your time today. I hope that you have a truly blessed day