Whenever I hear the news that a bank has been robbed in Salisbury, it really upsets me that someone might get hurt or even killed during one of these senseless acts of greed. While no one should be robbed doing their job, I always worry about "my girls" at BB&T Bank on Riverside Drive.
When I first started my job here in January 1979, one of the first business photos I took was that of the grand opening of Atlantic Bank, which through mergers has now become Branch Banking and Trust -- BB&T. While taking that first photo, I met teller Bonnie Hearn, now Smith, and we have stayed friends ever since. Bonnie is now one of the head cheeses in the bank's South Salisbury Boulevard branch.
She is my friend, along with the staff at the Riverside branch. One of the reasons I have stayed with this bank is that I have come to know the ladies well, and in a world of declining, genuine, personal service, I have found the service at BB&T excellent. The tellers are my friends and I rely on them for great service beyond the call of duty.
The other day I learned about another example of the kind of exceptional staff that bank is fortunate enough to have. An elderly man pulled his car up to the drive-in window and cut the engine off as he transacted business. When he was about to leave, his car broke down.
Behind the window were Mary Holland, Carrie Reeck and Heather Phillips. The man told them he was ill and was on his way to the doctor's office. Now, in today's cold hearted corporate world, those ladies could have called a taxi or let him deal with his problem, alone.
That was not the case. Carrie Reeck grabbed her coat and purse and helped the gentleman into her car and drove him to his doctor's office. As Heather and Mary held down the fort, branch manager Rena Bataille walked to the drive-in lane and pushed the car free of the window, secured the doors and kept the key until the man's return.
I know this is the kind of thing my friend Bonnie would have initiated, but these ladies took it upon themselves to do this act of kindness instead of letting the old man fare on his own. This Good Samaritan deed not only reflects well on them as individuals, but on the bank as well, that the working environment is such that they were able to do what they could do help a sick, elderly customer. Apparently, manager Rena did not have to consult a team of New York City lawyers to see if they could help or leaf through a few hundred pages of a manual to see if the company would grant permission to do the right thing.
In my case, this considerate act of kindness went a whole lot farther with me than millions of dollars spent on slick advertising to enhance the bank's corporate "image."I rely considerably on these ladies to make things go smoothly on my banking ventures. Now I have even more peace of mind knowing just how much they genuinely care about their clients. I am sure proud to call them "my girls" and I hope the bank appreciates their quality and commitment.
On the subject of some aspects of corporate America, I had the opportunity recently to take a closer look at the "employment policy" at my job. It has been a long-standing rule that no employee take gifts from anyone that they have professional interactions with, a policy that, especially in the news business, makes great sense.
Yet there are exceptions. When I did a little cooking story about the muskrat dinners served at Dave White's Pittsville Dinette, I arrived early in the morning and was extended a genuine old-time Eastern Shore courtesy -- "join us for breakfast."
Now, it may be lost on those who didn't grow up here, or even those of a younger generation, but when I was a kid in the country, the cardinal rule of country etiquette was to offer visiting friends, family and guests to have a meal with them.
My grandparents took it a step farther and insisted that anyone coming into the yard join them at the table. Now, my mother, not from the Shore, didn't take kindly to this Eastern Shore rule and did not want, as my uncle chided her, to put "a little more water in the gravy" for dinner guests.
This social faux pas did not go down well at all with my stepfather, who was always gentleman enough to try diplomatic solutions so as not to be in breach of this coveted and respected rule of manners, while respecting my mother's staunch position.
To those who know Dave White, he is a true genuine Eastern Shoreman, and when he invited me for breakfast, I accepted. I accepted, knowing in two hours time I had a lunch appointment with friends from work. I accepted. knowing this would be frowned on by a "higher-up" in some corporate office somewhere in America. I did it because it was the right Eastern Shore thing to do.
It had nothing to do with two eggs, sausage and toast. It had everything to do with real Eastern Shore protocol. Dave White and I are on the same page on this matter.
When he and his companion, Helen Layton, asked me to have breakfast, it was just like coming home to the kitchen of family and friends in my past. And yes, Dave and Helen, your eggs, bacon and toast never tasted better. Thank you for keeping alive this seemingly insignificant, but valuable element, of Eastern Shore etiquette.