Oct 19, 2017
My first job out of university was working as a teller in a bank. I was singing a lot on the weekends and working on my writing, but I needed a regular income, too. My mom had suggested I apply at a bank. She thought it might be useful for me to learn a bit more about how money works, and to that end – bless her heart – she was right.
In another sense, it turns out, I might have been the worst bank teller in all of Lawrence National Bank’s history. On one particularly foul day, I could not – though I tried valiantly – balance my till. I was rushing to finish so I could pick up my sister at the airport and the harder I tried to close my drawer, the more complicated and larger the error became. My teller station was being taken over by yards and yards of teller tape that dangled and swelled like a terrible paper tentacle. At one point, I thought it might come to life, reach up, and choke me.
In pity, and I think in some well-earned dread, the bank manager finally let me leave without resolving the issue. She said, “Go ahead, I’ll balance your drawer for you.”
But she couldn’t. It took a specialist in the main bank’s downtown accounting division to find my error over two days of working on it to put it right again. I would have been fired without her effort. Even though my colleagues knew I did not take any money from my drawer, on paper it appeared that my till was short a large amount.