I closed our last joint account yesterday. It was a very hard thing to do. Sad. Poignant. Excruciating. The customer service rep who assisted me was very kind and gentle – she had assisted me last year with some matters after my husband’s death and even remembered the details of our accident.
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Not at all like the perky young woman in August who wiped out a 40 year history of the customer he had been at the bank we had used for our entire marriage with a cheery demeanor that probably earned her the title of employee of the month. If so, I was going to find her car in the parking lot. I made a mental note to key it on the way out.
“I’ll just take him off here” she said, tapping away on her keyboard. “And here.” More tapping, and smiling. “And…..here. Done.” She wheeled over to the printer, then rolled back to the desk. She shoved some papers in front of me to sign. Which I did, slowly, meticulously, with my beautifully written married name. I kept the pen she had handed me. I wondered if I had anything stronger with which to puncture her tires. Probably not.
I contemplated whether either of my kids would bail me out of jail if I jumped across the desk and shook this lovely creature by the neck and shouted in her face “Look, he wasn’t just a name on an account. He was your customer for 40 years. Forty years. He was a good man, a decent man. He loved his family. He loved me. He thought I was beautiful – even when I was anything but. He mattered.” But I did not. She was young and fresh-faced and enthusiastic. More than anything, I hoped bad things didn’t happen to her. Ever. I hoped she never felt empty and lost and alone.
“Here’s your death certificate back,” she handed me the folded document along with copies of my newly signed paperwork. I stuffed it all into my purse. I shook her hand and thanked her. At least I think I did. I walked slowly out, tears streaming down my face. Past a former co-worker who stopped me to offer condolences. I waved her off – I could not talk. Past the employee of the month parking spot…
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So, yes, yesterday was tough. The last account. But thanks to gentle handling by a thoughtful employee I got through it. Thank you for asking about my granddaughter. For asking about my sons. For asking even about my dog. For remembering those details. For caring. For recognizing how tenuous my grip was, how close to the edge I live.
You, madam, are Employee of the Month. And yes, a donation has been made in your name to the Animal Welfare League. Thank you.
k8edid 