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banking in a small town There are two entries that I really feel the need to write. And I can't. And I can't even tell you why I can't. But it gnaws at me. Really does. Hence the writer's block the past couple days. But, regarding the second unwritten entry, let's just say this: It's nice to live in a small town. When a financial matter doesn't go the way it was supposed to... You don't get forgotten. You don't get some flunky calling you a few days later letting you know there "was a problem". No. It was one of the bank's vice-presidents. Within an hour or two. Someone I've known for what? Twenty years? Twenty-five? Someone who understands the urgency we're under. And it turns out it wasn't their fault. Nor was it ours. And not the other party, either. But it may be hard to overcome. At least it would be, most places. Except, of course, for the fact the other party at the other end of this transaction is also in a small town. Our VP figures she'll just call her counterpart in that other small town, and the two of them can probably take care of this. Regardless of what the computers and rules say. Less than 10 minutes later, our VP is calling me back. Yup. All done. All okay. As the wife said, as I explained it all to her after work today... "And people wonder why we bank with them." |
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