An elderly woman in worn clothes wanting to “just check her balance”? He figured she probably had a few hundred dollars, maybe Social Security. In his mind, people like her didn’t belong in a bank like this—they belonged at the corner store cashing checks.
He laughed out loud this time, drawing a few glances. “Ma’am,” he said condescendingly, “if all you need is your balance, there’s an ATM outside. This line’s for real transactions.”
Evelyn turned slowly, looked him up and down with kind but steady eyes, and simply said, “Young man, mind your manners. I’ve been banking here since before you were born.”
Richard rolled his eyes and snickered again. The people around him shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything.
Sarah, the teller, was staring at her screen with wide eyes. Her face went pale, then flushed. She double-checked the account number, then looked up at Evelyn.
“Mrs. Thompson… your available balance is… $48,762,319.42.”
The entire lobby went dead silent.
Richard’s laugh died in his throat. He leaned over the counter, thinking it was a glitch. “That can’t be right. Must be some error—maybe extra zeros or something.”