Preferential Treatment

I have to drive almost a half an hour to get to the bank. I've banked with Wells Fargo since I lived in Bend where I only had to travel a few blocks to my closest branch. I only have to go to the bank about once a month; the drive is not a huge inconvenience.

Today I made my monthly trip to deposit a couple checks. Everything seemed perfectly normal. I dropped Kaeden off at school, stopped at StarBucks, and started on my journey. I had no idea that today I would not have just any ordinary bank experience. Today I was a Wells Fargo V.I.P.

When I pulled into the bank parking lot there was a woman walking through the front door and another woman getting out of her car. I sat for a minute, moved my wallet from my back pack to my purse, checked to make sure I didn't have make-up under my eyes or blueberry scone in my teeth, then made my way into the bank. The bank is made of glass - or at least the front of it is - so that the people inside can see out, but from the outside you can only see your reflection. I saw my reflection. I thought "I look like I just rolled out of bed, I walk like an oompa-loompa, and I don't really like my new haircut." I walked through the first set of double doors; I could see into the bank. Woman number one was already at the counter and woman number two looked like she was trying to decide where to go.

Just then, a man in a suit jumped up from a desk and rushed over to open the second door for me. Wow. I must REALLY look like an obese penguin. This guy feels sorry for me; it's the only rational explanation. He greeted me and followed me to the table where I began filling out a deposit slip. He asked how my morning was going or something to that effect, and walked away. When I looked up he was standing next to the teller closest to me and she announced that she could help me whenever I was ready. That time came and I approached the counter. "This is [so-and-so], our Districts Manager" she says "he's here to answer any questions you might have and to make sure all of your needs are being met." At this point I'm wondering what the heck is going on. He hung around for the entire transaction making small talk. It was obvious that his presence was making the teller nervous. Again, he asked me if I had any questions or concerns - which I did, about a particular line of credit - then they both gave me their business cards and told me not to hesitate to call so I ‘wouldn't have to make the long trip back to their branch’. The DM walked me to and opened the door, wished me a good day, and thanked me for my business. Through the inside window, I could see him return to his desk.

I am still completely baffled as to why this happened. Did he know I was coming? Did he recognize me? I have seen him before in another branch. Did I just inherit a multi-billion dollar fortune and he knows about it? I guess my friendly neighborhood Wells Fargo employees just like me – more than they like the other 5 or 6 people that were there this morning. I don’t know and I’m not complaining. I’m just confused.