AT THE clearly designated priority lane: “For PWD, senior citizens, pregnant women” – as though any other human can get pregnant – at the tellers’ counter of a bank inside a mall I queued.
Being served at the moment
was an elderly woman. Next in line were a robust male in his early late 30s or
early 40s with a bulging string bag, a lass who could not be more than 30
holding a libreta del banco with a withdrawal slip between its pages,
and me. Red flag: So, why were those plainly non-seniors, non-PWDs, and non-preggos
on the priority lane?
Still, I kept my cool. It
would not take much time with only two to go before my turn, anyways.
Came the turn of the man
with the backpack – and eternity set in. Apparently, he was depositing a large
amount of cash to multiple accounts. How the money counter buzzed, and buzzed,
and buzzed… At the close of that eternity of over 20 minutes, I heaved a sigh
of relief as the lady next in line had but that single bank book and a
withdrawal slip – so how much could she possibly withdraw?
Lo, and behold, before the
lady could even rise from the bench we were seated on, a stocky man in a red
hoodie – plainly an errand boy – with a backpack darted straight to the counter
and was immediately served by the smiling teller.
As though on cue, the
teller at the regular lane suddenly called out to a biz-looking man at the tail
end of the queue there and served him ahead of some others meekly waiting for
their turn. A woman, obviously familiar to the man and the teller, thereafter
jumped the line too and was served ahead.
Age, truly, has mellowed
me. It took all courage not to create a scene at the bank as I did twice at
MacDonalds-Dolores Junction and at another time inside the customer service
section of the same mall when I berated their staff for opening their priority
lanes to everyone else but those they were created for, slamming the priority
lane signage at their counters for effect.
This time, I simply stood
up and left the bank, but not without a “Your service sucks” uttered to the
security guard but loud enough for everybody to hear. Outside the bank, I
immediately called the mall manager and complained.
“Again, Sir Bong?” He was
profuse with his apologies and said he would personally deal with the matter,
as he did the first time I had a run-in with the same bank, not so much as a
year back.
That time, I was told at
the bank entrance that I had to fill in bank forms outside the bank. When I
asked where, I was motioned by the security guard to the plastic chairs at the
waiting area.
Dutifully, I got a chair
and propped it at a security guard’s table by the entrance of the mall and
started filling in the withdrawal form. As I was taking a selfie on the
situation I was in, the guard told me it was prohibited to take photos there. It
was then that I called the mall manager.
And he did come and asked
the bank manager to hear me out. I simply told her if the bank wanted customers
to accomplish bank forms outside the bank, they could have at the least
provided tables or desks for the purpose. Plain common sense.
I immediately cut her down
when she offered to fill out my form herself and take it straight to the
tellers. I told her I sought neither special treatment nor entitlement. I did
it all – inside the bank on a counter – and queued at the priority lane to
finish my transaction.
Back to the most recent
incident. Even before I left the mall, I posted on FB a photo of the hoodie guy
with the backpack doing his business with the teller and captioned it as a violation
of the rights of seniors and PWDs as mandated by law – seen by a number of
friends, among whom the mall’s top brass who messaged me that they would take
action. (Having served its purpose, I have since deleted the post).
It was not even 10 minutes
after arriving home that I got a call from an unknown number that turned out to
be the bank’s assistant manager. She made the perfunctory sorry for the
inconvenience and said the non-seniors-PWD-preggo at the priority lane were
“diamond card” holders which I understood as big-time clients.
Aye, it could only be
that mellowing that comes with age that gave me the patience to explain to her:
That the diamond cards are a courtesy or privilege given to preferred patrons. That
the priority lane is mandated by law exclusive to defined individuals. That the
law is supreme over mere privilege.
She promised me that the
bank will institute measures to ascertain that the priority lane will serve as
the law mandated it to do.
That I will have to see. Meantime,
may this serve as a warning to establishments that disrespect priority lanes.
This curmudgeon will be out there to take the fight.
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