I'm starting to get used to the fact that here in Oklahoma, most ATM's will dispense bills as small as $5. I'm accustomed to getting my cold hard currency in denominations of $20, since the banking higher ups in LA have deemed the Jackson as the one and only bill worthy of the So Cal ATM dispensing lifestyle.
While undergoing the well-rehearsed and ultra-familiar routine of my electronic cash withdrawal, the following words wafted by my ears and entered my fully awakened consciousness..
The ATM at my bank is located inside the lobby (they still haven't installed a drive-up ATM, but I'm ever hopeful), right off what the bank people call, the "conference room."
I'm not sure the bank personnel ever get to use this room for any morning high finance meetings or were-gonna-have-to-let-you-go HR face-to-faces, since the room always seems to be occupied by a group of men.
They usually number in the high single digits. There's room around the round table for 8-10, but I'm sure they would always skoode over for an 11th or 12th visitor. Some wear worn out overalls, some not. Most have baseball caps, the majority of which are promoting agriculture products of varying types. There's always at least one OSU cap, and one OU cap. Most of the gents appear to be in their 60's and higher.
All are drinking coffee from white styrofoam cups, dispensed liberally from a duet of plastic, copper colored thermos' stationed mid-round table.
My wife tells me that Farmers, Ranchers and Retirees can always find an early morning spot to sit and gather and gab and drink a decent cup of $.05 cent coffee in a small town. I'm told that all of the banks in town have such rooms as well.
Nice to know that in today's society of $6.00 grande lattes and $5.00 bottles of water, that a local business would defray the daily cost of a few thermos' of coffee to provide a convenient service for the citizens who may or may not make up their customer base.