Fear the Change

I live in a town where nothing ever changes. Seriously… Edison is where change goes on vacation, because he knows he won’t be asked to do a damn thing.

Years ago (and I mean back when there were World wars), we had a passenger train that would roll through town at various times throughout the day, hauling rural dwellers into the city for business and carrying transients from town to town. For whatever reason, the train didn’t run on Thursdays, but it DID run on Saturdays. Our local bank, The Bank of Edison (where I now work), closed down on Thursdays but stayed open on Saturdays, hoping to be as accommodating as possible to the patrons of the rail. There hasn’t been a passenger train in these parts for at least 40 years. Yet, the bank is still closed on Thursdays. It is my firm belief that most folks at the bank, including the president himself, have no idea why the bank had a no-Thursday schedule. Just a few days ago, I suggested we consider closing on Saturdays and opening on Thursdays. The idea was overwhelmingly shot down. Change scares people around here… even when it makes sense.

I left this town back in the early 90’s. I did so because I was young and craved the very change that had been denied me for so long. I moved back in 2007 having had my fill of change. From 1998 to 2007, I moved a total of 14 times. Yes… I said 14. That’s change on speed, and that’s no good either. Upon my return, I discovered that (surprise, surprise) everything was just the way I had left it. Same folks , same businesses (with the exception of the Bill’s Dollar Store closure and the opening of the Dollar General), same mayor, same general disdain of anything new and different. We do have the internet now, which is good, ‘cause it helps us see all the things that we refuse to experience due to our fear of change.

Yesterday, at the bank (on a Saturday, mind you), I had a customer who was upset because someone else’s check posted to her account. The problem occurred because her account was a 4 digit account #. The other customer’s account (the rightful owner of the check in question) had a 5 digit account #. However, if you dropped the last digit of the 5 digit account, you get the account # of the complainer. I told the customer that when the check was processed, the scanner must have dropped the last digit of the account #, which caused the problem. I told her that the only way to guarantee that this sort of thing doesn’t happen again is to give her a new account… a 5 digit account.

As gracefully as possible, I explained that we would pay for the checks. We would reassociate her debit card with the new account. We would make things as painless as possible. Instantly, her guard went up. “Well, this has never happened before, so I don’t think it’ll happen again,” she suggested. To which, I replied, “yes, but we’ve only had the scanners for about a year now, and it’s happened to other customers as well. Plus there’s an issue of privacy for the other customer, so it’s not just a convenience issue.” Then it happened. Sparks flew. Her face became flushed, which she desperately tried to hide with an unconvincing smile. In an angrily, shaky voice she decreed, “I don’t want a new account. I’ve had this account for years and it’s been good to me. I like my account.”

And there you have it. The sort of logic that sinks ships. In one obscenely ridiculous statement, she had captured the heart of the problem of my little home town. This woman was married to a number. That’s all an account is… a number. Perhaps she feels that we actually have drawers for each customer in which we place their cash, where it sits in comfort awaiting the day when it will be used in exchange for goods or services. Maybe she feels that her particular drawer is a drawer of prosperity and a new account might mean a drawer of poverty. I’m reaching, I know, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to figure out what the big deal is.

It is both illegal and unethical for an officer of the bank to slap a customer, so I didn’t. I just smiled and said, “well… it’s your choice.” As I walked away, I embraced the fact that with some people, nothing ever changes.