I have noticed the huge influx of chocolates and decorative cookies on store shelves as the festive season rushes past. The residents at the seniors’ lodge where I work are prone to offer boxes of chocolates, thin wafers and tiny puff pastries. They take the opportunity to say “I appreciate your consistent hard work.”
Years ago I worked as a bank clerk at the CIBC in Peace River. My duties at the time included filing, sorting, collating and posting cancelled cheques to clients' accounts. We also let customers into the vault to access their safety deposit boxes, opened accounts and answered questions.
Our bank was of the standard two-storey style, red brick with white trim, probably from the early 1900s. The downtown building that houses Pandora’s Boox here in Olds reminds me so much of that CIBC bank.
The building was cramped, giving little space for our work area. We were relegated to the outer edge of the customer area. Being a relatively small community soon everyone knew everyone. Many of our customers came from outlying towns: Nampa, Grimshaw and even Deadwood, a good half hour away.
Like the residents at the lodge, the bank’s customers also took the opportunity to show their appreciation for a job well done. One year we were well into December and for some reason no treats had arrived to grace our desks.
My immediate supervisor was Barb Neidermeyer. She had a lot of previous experience as a teller and handled our accounts department with flair. Sometimes she stood up from a long stint at her desk, stretched and danced a little dance to loosen up. She’d scoop up her ever-present coffee cup and drain it. The half full brew was always cold but that failed to faze her.
She decided that she would get the gift giving started. Barb’s husband Hans complied when she called him, bringing us some chocolates. Soon the customers got into the mood and boxes piled up on the counters, accompanied by Barb’s rich laughter.
The customers loved her. If she took a turn waiting on the counter, everyone stopped to say “hi.” Often her favourites called out to her over the hubbub. The proprietor of the menswear store across the street frequently came in to tell her a new quip or an old joke. The general hum of voices stopped at the sudden shout of laughter as Mr. Ambrose told Barb yet another zinger.
I recall one Christmas party at the branch. We were requested to draw names for our gift giving. My name was drawn by the manager, Mr. Cameron. I received a bottle of Yves St. Laurent perfume. My husband was pleased. He would have liked to buy that himself but couldn’t afford it at the time.
I remember another event from that branch. One of our customers regularly stopped to say hello to me. I was asked by Barb who he was. The supervisors had been eyeing him suspiciously. He was a large, rugged older man and he consistently wore a warm fur hat with ear flaps. It was one of those winters that remained chill and frozen and everyone dressed as warmly as possible.
My visitor was the Baptist minister. I never did tell him that I had basically been asked to give him a character reference.
