NOVEMBER 2, 2019 – I’ve long believed that some banks are too big to succeed. But that’s another story. This post is about three young, street-level (technically, skyway level) bank employees who should be running the outfit. Someday they will.
They are Lance, Desilo, and Mohammed. This past week they went to town on my behalf. They did so with unusually good cheer, competence, intelligence, and exemplary professionalism.
Because of the challenges I threw at them and how they responded, we’re now fast buddies.
My objectives: cashing a wad of ancient traveler’s checks (denominated in Swiss francs, just to make life interesting) and redeeming a stash of U.S. Savings Bonds, so old the Smithsonian might’ve been interested in them. These relics had been acquired—and well hidden—by my dad and my uncle, respectively. Because of the challenges associated with liquidation (coupled with the fact that the sums involved weren’t overwhelming), I’d continually kicked the proverbial can down the road. Until now.
As my dad often quipped (with a chuckle) about bothersome projects up at the lake, “The only way to get it done is to get it done.” So it was with those traveler’s checks and savings bonds—the only way to convert them to cash was to roll up my sleeves and get it done; call here, meet there; collect requisite “paperwork” from everywhere; wait in a bank lobby until the only available banker finishes up with another customer (whose problems, I gathered from snippets of conversation, originated on Mars or Jupiter) and then . . . make myself the customer from Pluto, because the banker has barely heard of a traveler’s check or a U.S. Savings Bond, let alone set eyes on either.
It fell to Lance, Desilo, and Mohammed to roll up their sleeves, chase down telephonically proper guidance from the law department and the back office, and make it happen! All three stuck with the project long after the bank doors had closed. I watched with fascination.
And I got a little of their stories—Lance, whose family moved from Tennessee to Minnesota when he was seven; now proud homeowner and family man with two young girls; wants to help other African Americans build wealth the old-fashioned way–working, saving. Desilo, who grew up in Lusaka, capital of Zambia; pursued a dream to emigrate to America; shares enthusiastically my interest in geography. Mohammed, originally from Somalia; his path to America was via India, where he’d first found work in a bank; blessed with a sense of humor, quick-wittedness, knowledge of bank ops, good managerial instincts, and genuine interest in people.
At the end of the effort we cheered, “Mission accomplished!” But for me, of far greater value than the monetary figure involved was the friendship I’d struck up with these fine, bright gentlemen. If I’d arrived as an old, white curmudgeon, those guys had most certainly divested me of the curmudgeon part. As long as America has people like Lance, Mohammed, and Desilo, we have every reason to be bullish on America.
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© 2019 Eric Nilsson
