One of my funniest memories from working relate back to when I was cashiering at the bank. Being a cashier was a job I always enjoyed, mainly because I got to see and engage with all sorts of people from every walk of life. Shop keepers would also give you discounts or extra sized portions once they got to know you.
At one time I was working at the Barking branch of the then Midland Bank, standing in for the First Cashier. To those non banky readers, this consisted of being responsible for ordering from and sending to the bullion centre surplus cash, making sure the other cashiers were organised properly and generally be responsible for all the days cashiering activities.
In those days (early 1980's) Barking was a mainly white, working class area with various large Council Housing estates, including tower blocks. The branch was situated near the Vicarage at the end of a row of shops on Ripple Road. It consisted of a V shaped banking hall with the entrance at the apex. To the right was the Foreign and Securities desk whilst to the left was the interview room. Cashiering positions filled up the spaces in between: five if my memory serves. The door was very heavy plate glass with a powerful spring and let you have a good view of what was going on outside.
One time I recall serving a regular from the French shipping line CGM (lets call him Pete) who came in on an almost daily basis and while we were chatting away about something inconsequential I noticed a certain Mr Rao trying to get in through the front door. Mr Rao was a disabled Asian man of uncertain age who could have been anywhere between 50 and 70 years old who walked around with the aid of two crutches. His English was poor, or at least we assumed so as he rarely spoke to anyone and never, ever to a woman, preferring instead to pull a typed slip of paper from his breast pocket on which was written three simple words:
"DO NOT OBSTRUCT"
All the staff had learned to heed this cryptic warning as Mr Rao was not one to be crossed. You would get one of these little slips even if you tried to hold a door open for him. He refused to be served by or even talk to women, and if no male cashiers were available would go stand at an empty till position until we made one available. Personally I would have let him stand there all day but there were always softer souls to hand. Mr Rao would, on occasion, write in to the bank with long rambling letter written not only in lines top to bottom but all up the sides, across the top and bottom and always in strange coloured inks, normally green. We could never make head nor tail of them.
Anyway, back to the story. As nobody ever wanted to serve him, I had a quick look around to make sure no-one was trying to get out of serving him by sloping off. Pete caught me staring and turned around to see who or what I'd been looking at. He saw Mr Rao struggling with the heavy door and couldn't understand why none of the staff were going to his aid. By now Mr Rao had managed to get through and was collecting himself and his crutches inside at which point someone else walked in, swinging the door hard and sending Mr Rao flying across the room. He ended up face down on the floor with his crutches on either side. I just couldn't help myself and burst out laughing as it was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen, especially as he was such an obnoxious chap. Pete however was disgusted with all of us for laughing and told me so in no uncertain terms. Despite my warning him not to help, Pete went over to where Mr Rao was now lying and offered his hand in an effort to help him up. At this Mr Rao deliberately swung one of his crutches in an arc, right across Pete's shins. The crack was audible from the other side of the banking hall and poor Pete fell to the floor, clutching his shins in agony.
Of course, by now we were all weeing ourselves with laughter, what with Pete rolling around the floor calling Mr Rao "an ungrateful bastard" and asking "what did you do that for?" whilst Mr Rao was managing to pull himself up. Not saying a word, he took out his piece of paper and dropped it onto Pete before hobbling to the door and leaving. After a few minutes Pete was able to crawl back over to my window and haul himself up. I simply said "I did warn you Pete". Oh Happy days.
Ripple oad is all changed now, most of the shops closed and the branch would be unrecognizable.
If still alive Mr Rao would probably be over 100 now so he probably has passed through whatever version of the Pearly Gates he subscribed to years ago, but I do pity St Peter if he tried to hold them open for him.........................
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