Zen and the Art of Account Maintenance

I stopped at my bank on the way home from work yesterday and again the line was long. But as I had ducked it a couple of times already, and I needed my check cashed, I sucked it up this time and hustled to a spot behind a rumpled old guy with a cane, about 10 people out from the teller. He was blustering about the two tellers who were "otherwise engaged" and not waiting on people. Obviously the manager didn't know how to run the place. I sympathized, but most of us know that banks make us pay for using tellers instead of computers, that they are being managed just fine, thank you.

Standing in line with a cane for even 20 minutes is something of a hardship, however, and it made me look ahead and behind at the rest of us. Of eleven people at my count, probably only two were under 50. One grey haired woman stooped, another looked frail. One man had a very bad limp, and my feet hurt if they aren't moving for very long. There were no chairs and no leaning walls, and we snaked along as well as we could, leaning against cubicles if we could get near one. 

Not only are seniors more likely to not do online banking, we sometimes take more time than younger people at the window, counting money twice, sorting identification, sometimes just chatting. The line crept slowly forward. I felt very bad for the man with the cane, because he was wobbly and obviously uncomfortable. He apologized for bitching so much, said it just must be his day for it.

When I finally got to the window and the smiling young thing who cashed my check, I asked if they had thought about how many older people they see and if, perhaps, they could devise a system where seats or a leaning place might be available during the wait. She said it was a good idea and she would pass it along, but I am not going to hold my breath. I can't hold it very long any more.