The Delay

Patience is still a virtue.

Everyone at the bank knew Mr. Asa and addressed him as such. Wearing a suit and film-noir gangster hat as he had done for the past 70 years, Mr. Asa walked into the bank with a cane.

Mr. Asa was a throwback and a relic from the days when men wore suits to ballgames and were addressed as Mister, and where women wore dresses and flowery hats to church and addressed as Miss or Missus. Those days were long gone except for the occasional Mr. Asa or a feminine counterpart.

As he had done for the past twenty years since retirement, Mr. Asa walked up to the island and filled out a withdrawal slip, even though the bank rarely used them anymore. He withdrew the same amount every week, and increased the amount once a year to help with inflation.

Mr. Asa approached the teller and slid his withdrawal slip through a slot under the metal bars. Sheila, as her name tag said, smiled and had Mr. Asa’s withdrawal cash waiting for him. She verified the amount on the withdrawal slip, slid his cash across to him in $20s, $10s, $5s, and $1s, and processed the slip.

While Mr. Asa physically counted his money, Sheila busied herself doing routine administrative work. As he counted, he looked up at the two security cameras pointed in his direction and shook his head. Though he didn’t care for the increased scrutiny, he welcomed the security it brought. Sliding over to the left or right two feet and he’d be out of the cameras’ view. With only one teller open in the morning, other customers would have to wait for Mr. Asa to count his money in front of the teller. The amount had only been wrong once in 20 years, but there was always a chance for a second time.

Sheila had been trained to work with customers young and old throughout her career. The training had also taught her to keep the line moving without being pushy or demanding. After all, her customers were conscientious when it came to their cold hard cash – and rightly so. In the digital age where millions could be transferred electronically in seconds, the stakes were greater.

Today, for some reason, Mr. Asa was taking a little longer than usual to count his ‘filthy lucre’ as he called it.

“Is there a problem with the amount today, Mr. Asa?” Sheila asked.

“Problem? Problem? No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Sheila said. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Ahh, rats. Lost my place. Have to start over. This getting old thing is for the birds, Sheila, just so you know.”

“Understand completely, sir. Mr. Asa, um, you are aware that we verified the amount twice before you arrived today. It’s all there.”

“Yeah, I know it. But machines can be wrong too. I probably told you this a hundred times before, but your machines were wrong once before so I just want – no, I need – to verify. I don’t trust machines and barely trust humans, present company excepted.”

“Of course,” Sheila said as she saw the queue growing longer behind Mr. Asa. “By all means…”

“Now, where was I? Okay, let’s start from the beginning….”

*******