My Worst Job: A Bank Teller

Everyone has had a horrible job at some point or another, one that made us dread getting up for in the morning and made us cranky for when we finally got to go home that night. Having worked in a fast food restaurant, an office, a clothing store, a general store, a music store, a beauty products store, and a library, I can say without hesitation that the worst job I ever had was as a bank teller.

The usual apprehension of such a job is, of course, the possibility of a robbery. We went through training, looked at robbery photos, heard first hand accounts of those who went through such a frightening scenario. We learned how to watch for signs that someone might be doing something illegal, and how to spot counterfeit money. What they didn't prepare us for, in either bank I worked at, was the awful abuse tellers put up with every day.

The first bank I worked at was in a small, wealthy residential area. The branch was so small that there were only five workers; the manager, one customer service representative, a lead teller (or teller supervisor), and two regular tellers. The people who lived by the bank were accustomed to the previous tellers, and so when we would ask for their identification when cashing a large check, they would either refuse, start to yell, or would throw it at our heads. Since the two tellers were younger (we were both in our early twenties), and the customers were usually elderly, they would start to rant about how our generation was inferior. We quickly learned who was who to avoid asking for ID, and therefore avoiding abuse.