Banker Tales...

Tales from a former Banker who says other Bankers are free to join in after she is done telling it all....

‘I knew it!’ “I am not an Unemployable graduate.” These were the thoughts in my head, I could almost scream them out loud. I had just gotten a Job. My first job since NYSC, Precisely one year after.

Now, let me tell you about this my big Job, lol; my salary would be less than 60k, I would work Monday to Friday from 7am till God help you close before 8pm. Oh, Saturdays and Sundays would only be mine if my supervisors deemed it fit. I would be a ‘Banker’, no a Bank Worker, ermmm a Bank Teller, a Bank Cashier……please find another word for modern day corporate slavery. That word, the word you just coined, that’s my position with the Bank. My employers would not be the bank but an outsourcing firm whose name literarily implied I had to work by force.

I had concluded all required documentation and was ready to do or die. Who wants to be a liability at home? Who small business epp? Less than 60k would make me a big big girl anywhere (babyoku things). I resumed and was shown to m

y small cubicle, where I was to delight the banks customers the way I have never delighted anyone in my entire life. Armed with my experience from NYSC dealing with people, trainings, my resilience, tenacity and people skills, this was going to be a Jolly ride-moi moi.


Nothing prepared me for what I was going to face at the bank; from the old military pensioners (best people I ever met), aggressive customers, shortages and overages, chykers, lovers, haters, yahoo boys and yahoo girls, top executives, all manner of things and people visit the bank I tell you. Oh, I forgot to mention awesome fiancé…… hehehehe (lips sealed).


A few years later, I am sharing my experiences with you.


MY FAVOURITE CUSTOMERS

Let me talk about these awesome people, they walk into the bank and you wish you had windows for fresh air, the best of air fresheners would park well. There are only a few women among them, people who make you check your pay slip for ‘foul smell’ allowance. These men are wonderfully great. They fought to bring Nigeria to independence and fought the Biafra war. Buhari, Obasanjo and IBBs’ colleagues. The Pensioners, Military pensioners- you better address them as that or you get bored with history.


They never failed to remind you about the war, their struggle is their badge, proudly worn on their skin. It’s the scar on the left leg, the eyes gone blind, and the loss of speech, the crutches under the arm, the partial paralysis, and the amputated right hand, artificial deafness, amongst others.


In spite of their many travails and ordeals, it’s never a dull moment when it’s their time of the month. I look forward to a fun filled day when they step into the banking hall. They make noise, the kind that makes you laugh. They tell you stories, they defend the bank when other customers grumble, they can fight your battles if need be, they pray for you and they even give tips. They are monthly reminder of what life can be like, a good reminder that we would not always be this young and agile hence the need to number our days.



Once papa approach you, for your sake attend to him sharply otherwise, you should be ready to get satisfaction from swallowing whatever comes from the mouth. Saliva fall on you if they decide to chat you up or argue with you for a while. They are old but mhen, never seen people who open eye for money like them, and a handful can even cheat you. I have fond memories of these men; like when you pay Papa and he wants to count his money, he would make a funny sound in his throat to gather spittle, throw it on his fingers and count. With the money all wet from his saliva, he would hand you a few notes saying he wants to change them into lower bills. Now you have to count what he handed you, confirm to him what he is expecting if not, papa fit change am for you.

One time, one Papa had just finished counting his money, changed his lower bills and counted them again to ensure correctness. One down, next customer please! For where papa wan gist (them no born you well to refuse lieutenant ….. him gist time) I heard him ask me if I was married, I said no wondering where this was going. Na so prayer start o. Amen! Amen!!!!! I bent down my head so papa would know conversation was over. Whossai, papa no commot. Then I heard the sound, the one that tells you to take shield, mouth organs are working to get liquid for counting money. Next thing; I saw his hand stretching the over soaked 100naira bill to me as tip. I was touched by the gesture but there was no way I was going to touch that so I said thank you papa, no need, you don pray for me. 

Big mistake, Papa left the hand outstretched, obviously angry at my refusal to take the money. Other customers were now watching the scene, aware of the kind of liquid on the money, waiting for my reaction. Papas’ next statement was “na because na 100naira my pikin dey refuse? na part of the prayers o”. I ended up collecting the money, placed it on the mecury light for heat and went straight to the bathroom. It was later they told me never to reject an old man’s money. Please, how true is that?

WARNING!!! If you met these my people inside any bank, never use the disposable cup at the dispenser. They line up at the dispenser, share the disposable cups among themselves, drink water and all efforts to make them trash the used cups would prove abortive. They would rather carefully replace the cups where they took them from……..the rest is best imagined.

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