The Day I Went to Open a Bank Account

I don't know why my father never liked banks. Every time we passed one he would frown and walk just a little faster to get past it just that little bit quicker. It seems to me there must have been a big collision between a bank and my father a long time ago before I knew anything about anything. That is, it may have been a big collision for my father but it was one that the bank almost certainly did not remember.

That's how I was brought up. Forever walking quickly past banks. Perhaps I took on my father's opinions as I took on his other unusual behavior. I quickly learnt to frown and walk just a little bit faster every time I passed a bank. I also learnt to fear the shiny steel and chrome counters and the trim, slim and smartly dressed young women who sat behind them.

I never understood the necessity for banks until, at the end of my first month as a clerk in an office, I was handed a check for $1,500, I stared at it in great surprise. I had never seen such a thing before. I understood cash well enough but this long slip of paper was something I wasn't quite sure about.

"Everything all right?" asked Mrs. Smith, our accounts manager. "Yes ... yes!" I said and signed for it hurriedly. What on earth was I going to do? I knew too well what I had to do and my heart dropped at the thought. I had to open a bank account.

For some reason I thought you had to talk to the manager of a bank before they would let you open an account. I went up to an empty counter and caught the eye of a bank clerk.

"Yes? Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes please," I said, "I'd like a word with the manager. If that's possible;"

He looked surprised but asked me to wait and went off.

The manager was younger than I expected and was clearly very busy.

"Yes. Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes. I'd like to talk to you. If you don't mind," I said. I was just as surprised as he was at the confident manner in which I spoke. I didn't know what to say next so I said nothing. For a moment neither of us said anything.

He must have understood that I wished to see him alone, for he invited me into his office and offered me a large comfortable seat.

"Now, then, sir. What can I do for you?" he asked, clearly puzzled.

"I would like to open a bank account," I informed him.

"I see," he said, nodding his head slowly," And how much do you wish to deposit in this account?"

"I wish to deposit this," I said and handed him the check.

He examined the check carefully before handing it back to me.

"A savings account?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Please follow me."

He led me out of his office back to the banking hall. There he took me to a large desk manned by a young lady by the name of "Candice Lee"—as I saw from the name card on the desk.

"This lady will help you open a savings account in which you can deposit your check for $1500," he said in a voice that was, I felt, a bit louder than absolutely necessary. "Good day, sir," he said and walked back to safety behind the barrier.

I waited. Miss Lee filled out forms for me and I signed them. She stamped them. She made me sign a little strip of plastic and she fixed this inside a little red book. She put the check in and back came the book with the right amount printed in it. It was at that moment that I realised I needed to withdraw some money and I asked how this might be achieved.

"I'm afraid you can't withdraw it for two days, sir. Not until the check has been cleared."

I stared at her in great surprise. I was trusting her bank with my money. It seemed only fair that they should trust my check.

"What?" I said in shock. "What!!?" I burst out angrily. Silence fell over the entire bank as everyone turned to see what was happening. I decided to leave with my self-respect safe and sound.

"If you do not trust my check, would you be so kind as to return it immediately. Your passbook," I said as confidently as I could. Miss Lee seemed really surprised. The bank manager must have been listening to every word. He came out once again from behind the barriers of steel and chrome. He held my check by a corner and presented it to me as if it were a wet fish. I handed him his little red pass book in a similar fashion, turned around and left. As the doors closed behind me, I clearly heard the sound of laughter.

The accounts department and I have managed to come to an arrangement about the way in which my salary is paid to me at the end of each month. I now keep my savings in a sock, as did my father before me, which I hide, as did my father before me, under my bed at home.