My Worst Job: A Bank Teller

Everyone has had a horrible job at some point or another, one that made us dread getting up for in the morning and made us cranky for when we finally got to go home that night. Having worked in a fast food restaurant, an office, a clothing store, a general store, a music store, a beauty products store, and a library, I can say without hesitation that the worst job I ever had was as a bank teller.

The usual apprehension of such a job is, of course, the possibility of a robbery. We went through training, looked at robbery photos, heard first hand accounts of those who went through such a frightening scenario. We learned how to watch for signs that someone might be doing something illegal, and how to spot counterfeit money. What they didn't prepare us for, in either bank I worked at, was the awful abuse tellers put up with every day.

The first bank I worked at was in a small, wealthy residential area. The branch was so small that there were only five workers; the manager, one customer service representative, a lead teller (or teller supervisor), and two regular tellers. The people who lived by the bank were accustomed to the previous tellers, and so when we would ask for their identification when cashing a large check, they would either refuse, start to yell, or would throw it at our heads. Since the two tellers were younger (we were both in our early twenties), and the customers were usually elderly, they would start to rant about how our generation was inferior. We quickly learned who was who to avoid asking for ID, and therefore avoiding abuse.

Bank tellers are required to dress in a businesslike attire, and although I never wore anything revealing, I was told by my co-workers that I dressed too suggestively and that I had to dress differently. At one point I was buying shirts from the plus women's department, even though I am petite. My mother and stepfather thought I had issues about my weight, but if I wore anything besides a size larger than my normal size, I was told that I was not dressed correctly. I realized later that sometimes there is a double standard between younger women and older women, and that while revealing clothing is inappropriate at any workplace (besides Hooter's), younger women don't generally wear baggy, misshaped clothing.

Rude customers and co-workers were almost welcome besides men who treat bank tellers as if they were meant to be oogled. I hated asking for a customer's phone number, because part of the time it would turn into a description of when I could call (when the wife's out). I was also asked to a hotel "for drinks", invited out to a date by a man who told me I'd have to drive since he just gotten another DUI, and gross propositions in general. It got to the point where I seriously considered buying a fake ring, but another teller told me that she tried that, and it didn't work.

The second bank I worked at was better, but had other horror stories that came with the job. A known drug user would come in with bloody one hundred dollar bills, shaking and singing to himself. A woman whose account was in the negative screamed in the middle of the lobby that we were ruining her life. Children threw horrifying fits if they were denied lollipops, or if we were out of them. A customer, clearly drunk, came in and loudly announced that women were evil and that he should hold up the bank. I had to call the cops after that one, and the funny thing was, two female officers came in to escort him out. Another cop later told me that he was "as the doctors put it, coo-coo for cocoa puffs".

What kept me sane was keeping a sense of humor about it, and for counting my blessings; I had a job, and it paid pretty well. Still, soon the negatives began to outweigh the positives, and I left both jobs. On my last day at the second job, they told me I'd be so bored now that I was leaving such a hectic place. The truth is, no job is boring, especially when you work with the public, and even so, I'd choose boredom over the worst job I ever had: a bank teller.