There is a customer that comes to the bank every week or so. For the sake of anonymity we’ll just call her Mrs. Jerkface. Well about a month ago Mrs. Jerkface came to the drive through and I was the one helping her. She wanted her her checks cashed and deposited into her accounts, but she didn’t specify which account and apparently I put the money in the wrong one. She could have let me know of my error and asked me to correct it, and I would have happily moved the money to the correct account, or she could have joined the rest of us in the twenty-first century and using the bank’s mobile app, transferred the funds herself, but she chose a third option, being a jerk, fitting since that is part of her name. She pressed the button, summoning me back to the drive-thru, and I flicked on the camera to see what she needed. She then began yelling at me about my mistake, telling me that I couldn’t get anything right. She continued yelling, but I don’t know what else she said, because not willing to subject myself to anymore of her irrationality, I turned off the camera and walked away.
She stormed into the bank a couple minutes later and yelled at me in the lobby and told my manager that customers shouldn’t be treated that way. I didn’t think that bankers should be treated in the way that she was treating me, but that’s just my opinion. I corrected the mistake while she stood to the side in an intense state of anger, and I had the pleasure of not seeing her again, that is until today. Mrs. Jerkface came to the bank while I was on my lunch break, and my coworkers told me about it when I came back, telling me that she’d said to tell me hi, an obvious lie. A few minutes later someone pressed the button in the drive-thru and I heard the voice that I hoped never to hear again in my life. She began yelling at my coworker who’d done her transaction wrong, according to her, although my coworker tried to explain to her that she had in fact done it right and it just didn’t show all of the things she’d done on the deposit receipt. She didn’t want to listen to the voice of reason and continued to yell over her, so my coworker invited Mrs. Jerkface into the bank to speak with a manager.
When she came in she walked right up to my window and with the biggest fake smile I could muster, I said “Hi, how can I help you.” “I’m waiting on a manager!” was her angry reply as she backed away from the window and began to pace around the lobby in the familiar state of rage that I’d become so familiar with in her last visit. One of the associates in the lobby invited her to have a seat while she waited for the manager, and when she finally went into the office, I could tell things weren’t going so well. She was pounding her finger on the desk as she yelled words that I couldn’t hear, and a few minutes later was in the lobby again, yelling at the manager through the glass window into the office. The associate who offered her the seat approached her again and this time offered her the option to leave, but she refused, saying she was waiting on the phone number for the district office and demanding to know his name, seemingly so she could try and get him in trouble. When she got the phone number she left, yelling on her cellphone as she made her exit, and at the end of the day the manager informed us that the bank had made the decision to close her accounts. It’s nice to know that I work for a place that values their workers enough to take actions so we’re not unfairly subjected to customers that don’t want to behave rationally. Hopefully that will be the last time I see her and maybe she’ll learn her lesson and will people better in the future, but I won’t be holding my breath.