Only In A Small Town

I went in to the nearest branch of the banking institution where we have our checking and savings accounts today. It was payday and I was depositing our checks into the account before the overdrafts started. As I walked into the lobby, a couple of the women at desks greeted me and asked me how my day was going. Somewhat surprised, I responded that things were going well. I then went over to them and told them that I don’t often get that kind of greeting in Wichita in a business of any kind, let alone a bank.
As I got up to the teller window, the teller greeted me by name and made small talk. Continuing to be a little surprised, I finished there and left.
Now, we have been going to this same branch for about a year and a half, and I’m in there probably two or three times a month. So it’s not like I’m a stranger there. Even so, in this community, that touch of personalization goes a long way and is unusual enough that it gets attention.
I will never bank at a place again as we did twenty years ago in the small community where we raised our boys. I’ll never forget one day going to the drive-up teller, handing her a deposit, telling her that I didn’t have a deposit slip. She got her “generic” deposit slip and without looking at anything else, said to me, “Your account number is 255 36 228, isn’t it?”
About as surprised then as I was just today when a couple of the women greeted me at the branch bank, I confirmed the number and the transaction was complete. As I drove away, I thought to myself, “Only in a small town.”