Episode one here.

One of the many tasks that I had to complete in the earlier days of the startup was taking care of the administrative back-log that seemed to pile up constantly. Some of it had to do with classing invoices and organizing papers, but clearly the most difficult, tedious and time-consuming practice of them all involved company banking.

Every time our company wants to do some kind of transaction, usually moving money around within our internal accounts or making a deposit into one of our supplier's accounts, we'd have to print out an official page, sign it, stamp it, and bring it to one of our banks in person to have it scanned by the bank manager himself to their central office. As you can imagine, this always causes great delays and problems for everyone involved.

One day after we moved into our new office my boss hands me some printed out papers to indicate a deposit into some supplier's account. I go to the closest bank, which is a stone's throw from the office.

I arrive there to see a long line of people waiting silently and the loud screeching in the distance of a 40-something post-menopausal monster on the phone. The security guard and teller seemed to be cringing in fear every time the voice cackled and laughed in the distance.

I patiently waited in the line until it was my turn. I presented myself to the teller, told her I had two papers to stamp and scan to the central agency. The teller pauses, looks around, nervously sweating, and finally tells me that he would have to get approval. He meekly walks over to the closed door of the bank manager and knocks on it, tepidly, to which the voice from within, annoyed at being interrupted on the phone, replies "Send him in!".

I walk into the office and am presented with the sight of a large-and-in-charge woman sunken into her office chair behind her counter, jewelry and earrings dangling loudly while she enthusiastically talks loudly on the phone. I wait for her to finish, looking around for a bit, and when she finally does hang up and sighs towards me with an air of indignation, I present to her the two papers. "I need these to be stamped and sent to the central agency, per policy".

Immediately she starts contesting me, loudly asking how many times I will be bringing her such papers. I told her that since we just moved into our new office nearby, it will be at least once per day. "That's not possible", she answers. I stare at her and ask her what she means.

"Well, you know, this stamp that I'm going to put on your paper is a big risk for me. What if your paper never reaches the central bank? I'd get in trouble".

"Sure", I answer her. "I get you. Will you be able to put the stamp and scan it?"

"Well maybe I can do it just this once but you know, really, I shouldn't, and I won't do it in the long term [...] "

She's about to stamp it when I remember that my boss always demands Proof of Deposit for any document, so I ask her if she can give me a PoD for this deposit. She immediately gets huffy again and loudly exclaims that she cannot do so. After a bit more back-and-forth from both of us, me softly asking if she can sign it, and her loudly smirking and exclaiming she can, but can't, I finally ask say:

"That's fine then, I just need to take your name for my boss, as we will most likely be filing a complaint with the central office of the bank".

Oh boy, that was a mistake.

She immediately gets defensive and screeches out that no, I may not have her name, and to get out of her office immediately. After lampooning me some more in front of the dozens of stunned customers, tellers and the security guard in the lobby, I walk back into the lobby and call my boss.

"Boss, the bank manager at the bank outlet close to our house doesn't want to scan the paper".

I hear more screeching from behind as the banker lady claims that I'm misrepresenting her words. My boss calmly tells me to go back to the office, and I understand what she's going to do. Meanwhile, the banker lady tells me to get out of the bank.

No problem ma'am, I will leave.

I walk back to the office and my boss meets me there. I explain to her as we drive back to the bank in her car what happened, and that the banker lady didn't scan my pages because I was soft-spoken and non-aggressive. She parks the car on the curb in front of the bank and marches in.

Immediately my boss walks over to the front of the line and enters into the banker lady's office (who was back on the phone and probably low-key shit talking). My boss proceeds to absolutely demolish this banker lady, demanding her to hang up, and then going through the names of the CEO and the investors of our company, as well as reciting all her high-placed contacts at the central office of the bank. She says that it is bank policy to bring these sheets to any office, and that any office must scan them to the central agency. She then loudly exclaims that she will be filing a complaint directly with the top customer service rep of the bank, as my boss shows the banker lady his private number on her phone.

At first the banker lady tried to fight back and to explain herself, but then she just fell into a mortified silence. At the end of it all, she vigorously apologized to me for my inconvenience and started trying to compliment me on my Arabic (this story takes place in North Africa). Sweating and groveling to the max, as she scans the sheets of paper, she bows her head to us as we're walking out and tells us that we're welcome back any time and that she'll be glad to scan anything we bring her.

Yes, I'm sure you will, banker lady, I'm sure you will.