According to Geon-u, Goldlight Bank claimed that fifty percent of interns became permanent employees, but the actual figure seemed to be under ten percent. After attending Manager Hong's solo performance of sales-target nagging in the meeting room, his verdict was simple.
“I hear other branches are worse. Someone told me one branch made an intern bring in a hundred IDs in a single day. Manager Hong can yell at me to bring in sales all she likes. I can just not join this bank.”
“Do you have somewhere else to go?”
“No. But I'm struggling right now. How am I supposed to think about somewhere else too? I just want a little peace of mind while I'm here.”
“Fair enough. At least spare yourself some stress. They barely pay you anything, calling you an intern.”
Hong Hui-gyeong demanded more sales from Bu Ha-yun than from Kim Jin-ju.
Kim had been assigned to Taecheon by regional headquarters as soon as she joined. Unlike Bu, she was openly favored by Hong. Kim was twenty-three and Bu twenty-four. Bu took all the abuse about being unable to do anything compared with someone a year younger. Kim was extremely quick to read a room. She seemed to have learned about banking somewhere before Goldlight, or perhaps had previous work experience. She was Hong's mouthpiece. Whenever something went well, she constantly said things like, It's all thanks to how well you taught me, Manager Hong. I did exactly as you instructed, and it worked. I made that sale thanks to you.
Hong had several distinctive habits when she contacted or spoke to customers. Complimenting their handwriting or their voice was one of them. With so little else to praise, she resorted to empty flattery. Kim watched her briefly and quickly copied those habits. When Hong asked her little clone why she'd handled something a certain way, Kim would say, You're so impressive, and there's so much I can learn from you. I learned by watching how you do it. Hong praised her at every opportunity as the best of the new hires.
Whenever a task was complicated, a strange customer arrived, or Hong wanted to pass on the work of someone at her desk, she called Bu rather than Kim. Inevitably, a particularly difficult task or an odd customer would create a situation Bu couldn't handle, which became another reason to berate her. Strangely, Hong didn't call me, despite my greater experience, or pass the task to Bae, who had worked even longer. And when Bu handled something incorrectly or couldn't finish it, I had to clean up.
Apart from how busy the branch was, fixing things wasn't particularly difficult. New hires tended to make the same mistakes, and customers tended to get angry about the same things. But Bu kept shrinking under the weight of her mistakes and losing confidence.
Hong would repeatedly call tickets, hear what customers wanted, and immediately handle easy tasks such as transfers, withdrawals, and passbook updates herself. Anything that looked easier still went to Kim. Time-consuming or complicated matters such as inheritance, account seizures, fund subscriptions, insurance inquiries, and loan consultations went to me, Bae, or Bu. Finally, the customer who looked most difficult would be shown straight to Bu's desk.
Today, Hong sent her a young man who said he'd come about an inheritance. Having never handled one, Bu floundered. She dredged up scraps of knowledge from training, rattled off what she knew about inheritance, and asked him to wait. Then she asked Bae or me whether she was using the right inquiry screen, or questioned Goldgrain, the computer AI that assisted bank staff. If neither of us had a customer, helping was easy. Otherwise, we had to help while serving our own customers, which took time. That meant turning to Goldgrain, but it only gave the most textbook instructions.
Ask Goldgrain, and it produced a list of documents to request, screen names and numbers for looking up heirs' accounts, the application screen for the Heirs' Financial Transaction Inquiry Service, the screen for viewing that service's results, and so on. On your first attempt, it was hard to know where to start. Simply telling customers which documents Goldgrain listed could easily cause problems later.
“Have you already been told which documents you need for an inheritance?”
“No. What do I need to bring?”
“One moment, please.”
Then a message from Bu arrived.
[Can I just tell him to bring the inheritance documents Goldgrain lists?]
[The document list isn't the important part. First ask how he's related to the deceased. Check his ID or any documents he brought. He might not even be family. I once had a guy claiming to be a boyfriend come in wanting to withdraw money with his dead girlfriend's card. Ask whether he's applied for the Heirs' Financial Transaction Inquiry Service too. What if you just give him a document list and he comes back demanding you process it because he brought everything, even though he isn't a lawful heir?]
While Bu questioned her customer, I was busy changing the PIN on my customer's MMF account and handling a withdrawal. The MMF screen took over a minute just to load. Damn Goldlight Bank's computer system. In the gaps, I kept sending instructions to Bu. Eventually she replied.
[He says he is family. His younger sister died. He's her older brother, and he wants to know how much is in the account.]
[Ask whether his sister was married.]
It took a while for another reply to come.
[She was married.]
[Then ask why her brother came instead of her husband.]
[Do I really have to ask that?]
Bu disliked asking customers too many questions, particularly difficult ones. But I taught her to ask plenty. That was how I'd been trained at Hwapyeong. I knew it wasn't easy for a new hire to keep questioning customers and digging for information. You only improved by doing it. Besides, the more a banker knew about a customer, the more accurately they could provide the service the customer wanted.
[Are you not going to do your job?]
While pushing Bu to ask her questions, I smiled at my own customer.
“Please enter the new PIN you'd like to use.”
I didn't check my messages while the customer pressed the buttons. I didn't know how they'd built this system, but while it accepted a PIN, you had to stop doing absolutely anything else. Open another screen, and the PIN wouldn't register properly; sometimes an error occurred. I waited for the entry to finish, then read the messages Bu had sent in the meantime and sighed inwardly.
[He says she was married, but can't he have the money in her account?]
[He's asking whether being married means her husband gets her money too.]
[Isn't her older brother an heir?]
I clicked the confirmation button on my screen and spoke to my customer.
“Your PIN has been changed successfully. You said you'd like to withdraw from your MMF account. How much would you like?”
“One million won.”
I wrote MMF 1m on the paper beside my desk and asked:
“Will you be taking cash, or transferring it somewhere?”
“Cash.”
“Would you prefer 50,000-won or 10,000-won notes?”
“All fifties. No, wait. If I take a single check and deposit it at another bank, when will the money be available?”
“If you deposit the check today, you can use the funds after twelve thirty tomorrow. If you deposit it on Friday, they'll be available from twelve thirty on Monday.”
I emphasized twelve thirty. Technically, it was after twelve twenty, but working at a branch taught you that customers didn't remember the twenty minutes. Tell them half past twelve, and there was a chance it would stick. If you were unlucky, they'd only remember twelve. Then, at noon the next day, you'd get a complaint: the money hadn't cleared, had we lied, they couldn't use their money, and we had to take responsibility.
“I'll just take cash.”
“Certainly. I'll withdraw one million won in cash.”
I scrawled ‘50’ beside MMF 1m. My own shorthand: the MMF customer wanted a million won in 50,000-won notes. Assistant Manager Kang Myeong-seong had taught me always to write customers' requests down on paper. Others from my intake had been told to use a computer notepad, the bank's internal memo function, or sticky notes. What I'd learned at Hwapyeong was the habit of writing on paper. Kang had probably learned it from his own mentor. And I'd teach the people under me the same way.
My customer entered the new PIN, and I hit Enter on the 1,000,000-won withdrawal button. When the screen confirmed the withdrawal, I estimated twenty 50,000-won notes from the stack with my fingertips and put them in the counting machine.
I'd only guessed, but the counter showed exactly twenty. That gave me a small burst of pleasure. My hand had become a counting machine. I smiled inwardly for a moment, ran the notes through the counter twice, and checked my messages.
[First of all, that money doesn't belong to the brother sitting in front of you. Tell him an heir with first priority or the spouse needs to visit the bank. There's no need to discuss it with him now.]
[He brought his ID and a family relations certificate. He's asking us to at least tell him the account balance.]
[It isn't his money. Do not tell him.]
“As her sibling, you aren't a first-priority heir, so I can't disclose that information. Her parents or her spouse will need to come in.”
I could hear Bu firmly refusing him from my seat some distance away. Good. Send him off. Please leave. Some weirdo had come in talking nonsense. I handed my customer the million won and their ID and wished them a good day. Before they had even finished standing up, a voice came from Bu's desk.
“I can find out the balance and tell my parents! You can just tell me. Why do my mom or dad have to come here? Why should my parents have to go back and forth? Just tell me.”
Terrified and trembling all over, Bu still answered clearly.
“If it's difficult to visit, they can also consult us by phone.......”
“No. You don't understand a word, do you? Stupid-looking bXtch. Tell me the balance, and I'll go!”
[Tell him you can't.]
“I'm unable to disclose it. I'm sorry.”
“You said you're sorry? You said you're sorry, didn't you? Then take responsibility! Why did I wait here?! I've been waiting thirty minutes! What are you going to do about it?!”