Liberty Bank: A Fictional Narrative

“You must be Kelly,” the teller greeted me as I moseyed through tall glass doors. Liberty Bank was intimidating, and I wanted to spend the least amount of time inside as possible. The three tellers at their stations were staring at me as soon as I walked through that door. My blushed face and cautious demeanor gave it away that I was the new girl. With all eyes staring at me, they told me to have a seat. I ambled my way to the chair trying not to draw any more attention onto myself. I could feel a nervous pit in my stomach, and it was asking me what I had gotten myself into. I tried my best to casually sit in the chair and wait to be greeted with a stack of paperwork to fill out, but I was finding myself so taken it with this place. I watched the tellers repetitively count out stacks of money, and type something into the computer. They didn’t speak while I was sitting there; however, the television was filling up the awkward silence with home improvement shows. There was an aroma of popcorn behind me, so I spun around and saw bags of it sitting next to the coffee dispenser.
Finally, after what seemed hours, but were probably only minutes, she arrived with the paperwork.
“Hello, I’m Kayla, and I’m the manager here at the Sartell branch,” she spoke with a perky tone. “We just have a few sheets of paperwork to fill out before we start.”
She slid the papers to me with perfectly manicured nails, and I grasped them with my chipped, neon pink nails. I didn’t even know the first question on the paperwork, which was my social security number. I panicked, but she told me it was fine. I had an account there, so they could look it up for me. The rest of the questions were fairly easy and straightforward, until she inquired how I wanted to claim my taxes. I felt a bead of sweat form on my upper lip, because I had no clue what she was talking about. I started to redden, and she could tell.
“I’ll just put single, okay?” She questioned.
“ Yeah, that will work,” I
responded.
The paperwork was done and I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders. I thought I was finally done with the hard part of the day, but I was wrong. They started me out by familiarizing me with money. I counted the tellers drawers and imported the data into the computer. Then the time finally came where Kayla asked me to count the money out to a customer. I grabbed the money from the drawer, and meticulously counted it in my hands before I gave it to the customer. I carefully laid the crisp bills down on the counter with shaky hands.
“20…40…60…” I counted.
I finished and felt a wave of pride rush over me. I had successfully counted out this mans cash, and was waiting for my praise of approval but that didn’t happen.
“You know accuracy is important, but so is efficiency,” he snarled as he grabbed his cash and left.
Kayla told me not to listen to him, but it was as though my self-confidence had been ripped out and stomped on the floor.
My first day at work taught me many things about myself. I didn’t know how strong I actually am. I was terrified to start work, and getting yelled at my first transaction wasn’t great, but I got through it. I know now that some experiences I have to get through by myself, and my parents won’t always be there holding my hand along the way.