By Tom Burke
We recently visited a newish Bothell financial center (formerly known as a bank) and discovered, amazingly, it was sans cash. Not a sovereign, sou, dollar or dinar in the branch. “No cash?” I asked. “Nope,” I was told.
“But, but aren’t you kinda like a bank? And aren’t banks where the money is?” I queried. “Well, technically we’re not a ‘bank.’ We’re a credit union (I knew that) and there are no cash drawers, cash vaults, cash deposits, or cash withdrawals; and no safe deposit boxes, two-inch, floor-to-ceiling plexiglass anti-stickup barriers, or exploding cash dye-paks.”
Well!
The office was handsome, modern, well-designed, friendly, efficient looking and busy. The staff was also handsome, modern, friendly, efficient-looking and busy. We logged in, met our customer rep, and were done in forty-five minutes. I was impressed.
But I was also puzzled about “No Cash Here.” How can I make a deposit or withdrawal if there isn’t any cash in the bank — er — credit union?
“Easy,” our host said, “use the ATM.”
The ATM! Of course! No hourly-wage-and-fringe-benefits tellers; no complicated staffing schedules; no loose cash to tempt modern-day Willie Suttons; no big, expensive walk-in vaults; no intimidating plexiglass barriers; and no gray-granite stone bank buildings or gray-wool-pinstriped bankers. Nothing but an office front, some desks, modems, wall hangings and two cash machines! Is that a slick business model or what?
After our visit I flashed back to the future, back to 1974 and my first encounters with an ATM. It was at a Chase Manhattan Bank branch across from my 420 Madison Avenue ad agency office and the bank had installed three new machines. And people stayed away from those new machines in droves.
Bank officers would circulate off the platform extolling the virtues of the new technology. It made little impact. People seemed to prefer waiting in line for the pleasant smile, the cheerful, “Hello, can I help you?” and the personal touch of their favorite tellers. (Chase’s ad slogan in ’74 was, “You have a friend at Chase Manhattan.” So everyone smiled. A lot.)
There were, of course, early adopters making beelines for the latest tech. (Note: “tech” wasn’t a thing in 1974). I suspect everyone snuck out of line to give the machines a whirl, I know I did. But it was back to my favorite teller on the next visit.
Of course, ATMs proliferated. Banks pushed ‘em ‘cause they were cheaper than tellers and people clamored for ‘em for the convenience. (No more 10 a.m. ‘til 3 p.m “bankers’ hours.”)
Now I’m no Luddite, but I ain’t as easy with tech as a millennial.
Yeah, I got a laptop and cell phone. But no Bluetooth, dashcam, Roomba vacuum, Nest thermostat learning my room-comfort preferences and programming my heat pump, Google glasses, virtual-reality goggles, x-Box or Wii game consoles, smart washer/dryer, smart-home remote, interactive car dashboard, or smarter-than-me, wrist-wearable mini-smartphone/fitness monitor/internet connection/texter/cell-phone-finder that, oh yes, tells time.
OK, I’ll fess up. I have a Kindle, but that’s about it, except for the Zippo which replaced the wooden Diamond matches I used to light my pipe.
And we’ve got a programmable thermostat to save money and energy, and some LED bulbs to save more money and more energy, and, yeah, a Prius to save even more money and even more energy. But we’re still wired to the printer, use light switches, and only have a modest dead-tree library after downsizing homes. Oh, and Alexa now plays my Amazon Prime music.
Time is changing. And I don’t mean it in the (Bob) Dylan-esque “Times they are a chang’n’” way. Actual time is changing. It’s moving faster.
So yeah, I get twitchy when a website doesn’t load in a millisecond, but I can remember when Pong was the miracle of the age. Research an article? Then: Wait for the library to open, drive and park, use the card catalog, dive into the stacks or microfiche, grab the books or print the pages, make notes, return the books, drive home and then begin writing. Now? “Come on Google — load faster.”
I’m not complaining, nostalgic for the good old days, or turning my back on tech. Indeed, I only wish I were more facile with it. I bought the Amazon Echo (“Hello, Alexa.”). It’s worth every penny, if just for the music (it’s sooo easy to cue up Cab Calloway or Ladysmith Black Mambazo). And I’m gonna give a smart-light a shot (“Alexa, turn on the lights.”)
I see the cost-savings my credit union garners with a store-front branch; I appreciate the ease of online banking and the convenience of 24/7 access to all the services I need. But, if that darned ATM weren’t so consistently machine-like and just once gave me twenties instead of tens, I’d really have a friend at Chase Manhattan, or BECU or where ever.
Tom Burke’s email address is t.burke.column@gmail.com.
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