Being a banker in the new normal | Inquirer Opinion
Young Blood

Being a banker in the new normal

/ 05:00 AM October 04, 2020

I arrive at our branch a quarter past eight in the morning. I still have ample time to prepare before we open at nine. It is business as usual. My custodian rises from her chair as soon as she sees me, making a beeline for the main vault door. We grasp the dial assigned to each of us, diligently ensuring that dual control is observed. As if relying squarely on muscle memory, I let my fingers slide the circular metal according to a sacred order of numbers that only I know. With all my might, I twist the hand wheel to the right. But, alas, the vault refuses to open.

It takes about five seconds before a hypothesis forms in my head — we might have twisted the time lock by a few millimeters more than necessary the day before. This means that even if we dial the correct combination now, the vault will remain locked until the timer expires. Past experience tells me that a few extra millimeters equal only a couple of minutes, the difference too insignificant to prevent us from getting the day’s supply of cash inside. I take a deep breath. There is nothing to worry about.

Perhaps I am still navigating the “new normal” in my job as a banker, from the shortened banking hours to the extended turnaround time of key transactions to the accelerated digitalization of processes that used to be exclusively face-to-face. It takes some getting used to. Putting pressure on myself is the last thing I need to do.

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Last June, we opened our branch to the public for the first time since the lockdown. Having the go-signal to operate again meant instituting new safety practices, which now form part of our “new normal.” Currently, only a maximum of 10 clients from those who pass the mandatory temperature check are allowed to enter the branch premises at any given time. Aside from the neatly installed plexiglass barriers, bottles of rubbing alcohol are an unmissable fixture in every employee’s table. Social distancing is strictly observed, be it in the lobby or the dining area for employees. To lessen foot traffic, we encourage our clients to use our online channels. And most importantly, we always manage to slip an empathetic “Keep safe!” after every obligatory “Thank you.”

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Gone are the days when our branch was filled with a motley crew of clients ranging from househelp to business executives. Nowadays, the demographic is dominated by company messengers who transact in behalf of their bosses. There are also the youngsters who only visit the branch at the behest of their parents or grandparents who cannot go out. Some days, the queues are inundated with newly hired call center agents intending to open a payroll account, their companies seemingly unscathed by the economic rupture caused by the pandemic.

When I started working in the branch almost two years ago, I quickly sought to disabuse myself of any romanticized notions that I had of solving social inequality, ideas that I harbored back in college. The industry, I came to realize, is not an avenue where one can bring any egalitarian fantasy to life. My job is simple. I just have to promote the bank’s interests at all times and stick to the policies, even if it means denying the account opening request of a low-income individual who cannot present a valid government ID, or telling a housewife who brought her husband’s obsolete ATM card all the way from the province that she cannot have it replaced because it is not hers. Most of the time it works, save for the occasional tongue-lashing by irate clients.

Some may say that the barriers to participation (e.g., opening a bank account) are skewed against those who have less in life. Some may even argue that the system is designed for the wealthy, the burden of presenting proof of financial means weighing more heavily on the shoulders of the poor. But as bankers, we cannot flout the policies set by the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP), lest we lose many a good night’s sleep or, worse, our jobs. As evidenced by countless financial frauds and scams, especially during the pandemic, one cannot afford to be too lax. Empathy can be risky if not tempered with strict compliance and due diligence. And while the BSP is unwavering in its mandate to make banking more accessible to Filipinos regardless of socioeconomic background, the fact remains that a single institution cannot undo an entire country’s systemic inequalities.

Still, banks can convert existing limitations into opportunities to deepen their relationship with clients. We quickly learn that beyond the etiquette of rehearsed spiels and SMS templates are stories waiting to be unpacked. Among these stories are of a client requesting to have the charges his accounts incurred from failure to meet the required daily balances reversed, reasoning that he was retrenched from his job; a non-tech-savvy customer, a working mother victimized by a phishing scam, tearfully asking if her hard-earned money could still be retrieved from the perpetrator; and another mother inquiring on the process of withdrawing the remaining funds from the account of her son, an energetic twentysomething who succumbed to cardiac arrest during the pandemic.

When invoking the established rules and policies still leaves something to be desired, it is our own carefully chosen words, the tone of our voice, the spirit of being ourselves part of a family that we draw upon to help bridge the gap, if not to buy us more time.

It has been more than 10 minutes since my failed attempt to open our branch’s main vault door. I motion for my custodian to join me. Together, we attempt once more. As we turn each of our dials to various numbers, I catch a glimpse of the line outside the branch. I see a few regular clients, their face shields and masks failing to hide the familiarity of their faces, their needs overpowering whatever fear they may have of stepping outside of their homes and into our office. I can’t wait to hear their stories.

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When at last the door opens, I take a brief moment to steel myself.

It is business as usual.

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Erwin B. Agapay, 22, graduated from the University of the Philippines Diliman with a degree in business administration. He currently works as a branch banking officer.

TAGS: Banking, Erwin B. Agapay, new normal, Young Blood

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