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PrintWould you like some small talk with your deposit?
How do you rate your bank? By its service? Interest rates? Décor? Bailout? I rate the three banks in my life by an unpublicized, but surefire methodology.
Small talk.
How they make it. How it feels. How it goes down while doing one’s banking. And how the tellers respond when you basically make it clear you want them to shut the heck up and focus on the proper processing of your money.
Strangely enough, banks don’t seem to impress upon their employees the importance of making customers feel as if their financial matters are of utmost priority.
Thus, by the quality and quantity of a bank’s small talk, the prognosis for certain financial institutions is not very good.
It’s not the most scientific process, I’ll admit, but it’s been gut-checked against my reality most assuredly. And quite recently.
The other day, I was at the bank dealing with some last-minute financial drama in getting my dollar ducks in a row to meet the mortgage. I came armed with cash, a check and the need to discuss a possible banking fee.
Instead of a teller focusing on my business, she was more intent on mind-numbing small talk. When she asked how my morning had gone, I replied, “It’ll go a lot better once I get my mortgage taken care of.” Ignoring the weight of what I said, she inquired about my plans for the rest of the day.
“Haven’t gotten that far yet. I’m a little bit obsessed with meeting my mortgage payment just now.”
Still acting thick as a brick with a tin ear to the monthly vicissitudes of the human financial condition circa Homeowner, USA, 2012, she began to blather about her weekend.
When I just couldn’t take it anymore, I cut her off.
“This is what I want you focusing on,” I said as I stabbed the cash, check and deposit slip with my forefinger.
She looked at me in genuine horror. I’d upset the social compact. She went silent and sullen.
She then did as little as possible, forcing me to ask her for a balance, the availability of the check funds and the possibility of waiving a banking fee. Monosyllabic responses. Not even a cursory thank you.
Call it passive-aggressive banking.
Now, mind you, this frustrating little drama was going on while the male teller next to her was highly successful in engaging his customer with incredibly insincere small talk, both droning as if they were long lost Siamese twins suddenly rejoined at the hip thanks to modern banking.
Not me, baby. I don’t care what somebody wore to the Super Bowl party or how many times someone puked. Or what the plan is for lunch. Or, say, how many dead chickens anyone has under the sink.
Can you imagine a bank promoting small talk as a reason to use its services? For instance, an ad campaign that pointed out: “Our small talk ranked the sincerest in the business,” or, “Our corporate culture’s small talk is the most researched in the business.”
Instead, I’ll bank where they live by the motto: “Competent banking first, small talk last.” Or, “Your money, our complete concentration.”
Am I wrong in being aggravated by this particular kind of human interaction (not even mentioning the equally irritating phoniness of it all)?
Well, maybe there is some connection between obnoxious small talk and a bank’s effectiveness. The New York Times ran an article a couple years ago about the five worst banks in America when it came to customer service and satisfaction. Two of my three financial institutions were listed.
Perhaps I should be looking for other places to bank.
