My Grandpa And I Went To Bank Teller: ‘I Have No Time For Poor Folks!’ But Grandpa Smirked And Said

The Rude Branch Manager

“I’m the branch manager, you know. I can’t be bothered with poor folks like you. Just wait over there, will you?”

I watched as he shooed them away with a dismissive wave. Grandpa’s eyes locked onto him in anger.

“Damn, this isn’t good.”

I tried to stop Grandpa, but it was too late. Grandpa slammed the counter and shouted. Shortly after that, that branch manager got his just deserts.

My name is Mike Smith. I work from home as a freelance web designer. My family consists of five people: my parents, my brother, and we also live with my grandpa.

I’m not sure if Grandpa knows that I work from home, but he often asks me to do chores for him. Well, thinking back to when I was a kid, he used to drive me to school and lessons, and gave me my allowance. So doing these tasks for him now isn’t really a big deal.

Since I was young, I’ve admired my Grandpa for his strength and knowledge. He’s good at carpentry and gardening. Even now, I still look up to him. He’s nearing 80, but he’s as cool as ever. Today, as usual, he’s out tending to his hobby garden.

A Favor for Grandpa

“Mike, I need a favor.”

“What is it? I just finished a part of my work, so I’m free now.”

Wiping his sweat with a towel, probably just coming in from the garden, Grandpa made his request.

“I’ve been invited to a wedding tomorrow, but I totally forgot to buy the wedding [gift]. Can you drive me to the bank?”

I glanced at the clock. It was showing 2:00 p.m. We were nearing the closing time for the bank’s counters. Considering wedding gifts, I needed to buy something for the new couple which should be helpful and luxurious from their wish list.

With that thought, I quickly agreed, and we headed to the bank. Grandpa used to drive, but he gave up his license last year. With all the news about accidents involving older drivers, he decided it was better to give it up than be a burden.

Probably it was harder after Grandma passed; he often said that I couldn’t drive without someone to be with me. I remember the day he proudly told me that he’d given up his license, and from then on, I’d be his chauffeur.

The Waiting Game

The bank was crowded, and I braced myself for a long wait. Meanwhile, Grandpa had bumped into some acquaintances and was deeply engrossed in conversation.

Grandpa’s token number was 75, and the number currently being served was 50. I realized we might be here for a while and scanned the surroundings. It seemed like a small-town bank with a majority of elderly clients. Many were engaged with bank employees with various questions.

Just as I was about to pull out my phone to kill time, a loud voice emanated from one of the counters.

“You can’t withdraw money with this debit card! Bring another one like I’ve been telling you!”

There stood a bank teller wearing glasses and shaking his hefty belly, raising his voice at an elderly man. This man, dressed in a noticeably high-end suit and watch, lacked any hint of class. The old man shouted at by him left the bank looking quite dejected.

The next person to be called was an intimidating middle-aged man wearing a gold necklace. He had a lot of tattoos and wore sunglasses. He looked like a stereotypical mobster. Now the teller was serving him with extreme politeness and lots of bowing.

It’s quite rare to see someone change their attitude so drastically based on the customer. My gaze shifted to the ATM, and there was a young lady bank employee. She was patiently teaching an elderly woman how to use it.

Given she’s wearing a uniform, she must be a bank employee too. Her gentle smile while assisting customers tells that not all employees at this bank behaved like the rude male.

The Priority System

Several minutes passed as the bank was about to close. The waiting number was around the 70s. Then I noticed something odd. The rude teller’s counter was displaying number 76. He seemingly skipped Grandpa’s 75.

During a brief lull, I approached the teller.

“Excuse me, my number is 75, but it seems like it was skipped.”

The teller looked annoyed by my question. His name tag read John Nelson. I was curious to see how he would treat me. As expected, he responded dismissively to me, dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans.

“Oh, there wasn’t a mistake. There’s a priority system here.”

“Priority system?”

“Yeah, bigger transactions are more beneficial for us. Besides, country folks like him probably have plenty of time, right? Just let him wait.”

I was lost in what I wanted to say because of the teller’s rude attitude. Then John was calling over another customer and essentially shooed me away. Angered by his condescending attitude, I returned to Grandpa’s seat. Grandpa was patiently waiting while reading a book.

“Mike, what happened?”

“Well, when I asked the teller why your number got skipped, he told me that country folks probably have plenty of time, so you guys can wait. It pissed me off.”

“That’s ridiculous. This branch got a new manager recently. The previous one was nice, but given how this new one lets John behave, I’m not sure about him.”

“Yeah, sudden changes often hint at underlying issues.”