The words Death or Obituary seemed appropriate as I struggled with a title for this piece but, really, they're much too stark. Too black and white. Elegy became the better choice. After all, elegy speaks of lingering thoughts and memories and mourning. An elegy, in its original intent, is a formal poem--elegant and touching. Elegies, such as those we read in high school, took years to write. Unfortunately, I don't have years, but something happened yesterday and I can't not say something.
I read that Bank of America was leaving western Kansas. Apparently, everything west of I-135 will be left in the dust of the behemoth that once ruled the banking world. "Not enough transactions," I read. I was shocked. "Not enough transactions?" Really? I remember a main bank, two branches, and long lines at all three every Friday afternoon. I remember...
No. I'm not remembering Bank of America at all and, in all honesty, I'm not sure I care whether or not they remain in town...except for how it may affect Dodge City. I'm remembering a long-ago predecessor bank. I'm remembering the greatest place I ever worked. I wish I'd started there sooner and stayed longer, but it was already too late. Bank IV walked in First National Bank's door one afternoon, and by the time they began looking good to us, Nations was ensconced. I left during the brief months before Bank of America completed their sweep of the industry. And now, they're riding out of town.
One summer morning in the late 1980s I parked my car north of the Daily Globe building, walked down the alleyway and knocked on the door of First National Bank. It was 8:00 a.m. and my first day as a Personal Investment Representative was about to begin. It was the second time I had ever been in the bank. I was greeted, welcomed, given a key...a key!!...a time card and a slew of instructions. It was a day of studying and learning and I loved it. Larry Heyka and John Harding dropped by with a smile and a "glad you're here." I was in Hog Heaven.
I had learned the technicalities of banking at Bank of the Southwest, but I learned the real meaning of banking at First National. It meant caring about each person who walked in the door. It meant finding just the right banking product for each customer who sat at my desk. It meant "being in the moment" as each car approached the drive-up window--full attention but always efficient and accurate. Always aware others were waiting, but never rushing the transaction. Yes, I just used the word "each" in every phrase. Perhaps because we were taught so carefully that each person was an individual whose needs were different from every other individual. Our job was to address and satisfy them all. And we did. And we enjoyed it. And I'm grateful I could do it.
I left Dodge City in 2001 but continued to bank at my neighborhood Bank of America in Arizona. But, whenever a problem or question arose, I called Dixie at the North Branch in Dodge City because I knew she would always answer her phone and she would always fix whatever it was. I missed that in Arizona. I miss Annie (the perfect mentor) and Susie and Kay and Barbara, and level-headed Dan, and H. Milt Skaggs reading his USA Today every afternoon in the lobby. And even all of those loan officers (who we secretly said never worked very hard...but we knew they really did. Just in a different way!)
So? I feel badly for Dodge City. I know times have changed. I very seldom walk into our bank here. I pay bills online, automatically deposit, retrieve cash from the ATM, and hardly ever interact with a teller. But I know they're there. The times? They are a changing. But it's oh, so hard to change with them.
Margie
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