“I apologize for the inconvenience, Mrs. Higgins,” Brad mumbled, unable to make eye contact. “Thank you, Brad,” I said sweetly. “I appreciate your diligence.” Douglas walked me out to my car. We caught up for a few minutes, exchanged phone numbers, and promised to get lunch the following week.

He apologized again for the incident, but I just waved it off. “Don’t be too hard on him, Dougie,” I smiled as I got into my car. “He’s just young. He needs to be trained. Goodness knows I had to fix enough of your mistakes.” Douglas laughed, a bright, genuine sound.

“Fair enough, Annella. Fair enough.” I drove home, paid my roofer, and finally got my ceiling fixed. I haven’t been back to the branch yet, but the teller I originally spoke to—the young girl—called me yesterday to follow up on a minor account detail. I casually asked how things were going.

She giggled and told me that Brad has been surprisingly quiet lately, and that he suddenly insists on reviewing every customer’s full profile history before making any decisions. It seems the new manager finally learned a valuable lesson about banking. Never judge a customer by the date of birth on their ID, and never, ever assume the sweet old lady sitting quietly in your lobby doesn’t hold all the cards.