The Old Broad's Club.

 The Old Broad's Club is damned hard to get into. You have to have a certain charisma. It's hard to find. 

One of my favorite Old Broads used to work at the bank. She was a little over fifty, cheerful, had a pretty good sense of humor and was kind and helpful. There was something about her I trusted the instant I met her. When I told her I was a sailor her face lit up and she told me she had put herself through school by working on a family fishing boat. She said she spends half of her vacation time cooking on the boat just to get back to the salt air.

That's when I looked at her closely. She was in her 50s and the lines on her face were not anger lines, nor were they worn out lines. They were laugh lines. (she also had a pretty cool scar she probably got while commercial fishing.)

From that day forward she became my bank teller because I'd jockey positions to get in her line.

One day she quietly told me that I could get an extra reward point of some sort just for asking for it and told me what to do. My face lit up and I said, "Thank you."

She replied with a twinkle in her eye, "Stick with the Old Broad, Kiddo!" We both laughed like hell when she said that. I always sensed she bothered to tell me because she liked me but I think she had a lot of respect for working stiffs and knew that their two bit accounts (mine included) meant just as much to us as J. Poopley Potts millions meant to him.

She was the kind of wonderful, polished woman that would have been just as comfortable at an embassy ball as she would be sitting on the tailgate of a pickup splitting a Subway sandwich on a rainy day. I also sensed she was as tough as a cob underneath it all.

A few months later I had a minor headache because I had been in San Francisco and needed fast cash. I couldn't use my credit card to purchase some groceries from a small mom and pop place because they didn't take plastic. I went to the bank and got a quick cash withdrawal which I hate to do and avoid at almost all costs.

To make the interest charges go away one has to pay the whole thing off in full and that can be  a pain in the ass. The best way is to stop using it for a few days, get a balance, pay it and have them post it immediately and not use the card for another day or so.

I went into the bank and sure enough, she was telling that day so I asked her the best way to handle it. She said the best way to deal with it then and there was to take the balance I had and overpay it to cover the previous day or two. "It all comes out in the wash," she explained. 

I took the balance she gave me and I added $200 to it and she posted it immediately. I knew it would all get sorted out and I'd break even in the long run. (Actually come out ahead because the interest on the cash withdrawal would go away)

While there's a protocol for taking care of my problem, she had shown me the quick fix that saved me some hassle. I probably would have had to have an office type dig around or something to get it figured out.

"Well, the Old Broad did it again," I said and we both laughed like hell. She had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She knew the term Old Broad was special. It was a left handed term of endearment.

As I turned the woman behind me looked at me and snapped indignantly, "You called her an Old Broad!"

I was somewhat surprised to see she wasn't college aged. While I'm generally left alone, the few troublemakers I run into because I'm outspoken have generally been college aged. This woman was a classic middle aged Karen.

"That's because she is an Old Broad. She's a member of the Old Broad's Club. It's an exclusive club and you ain't in it. That woman could land in a pile of shit and come up laughing and smelling like a rose and not lose her sense of kindness, compassion and sense of humor or charisma, none of these you apparently have to begin with or you'd have kept your mouth shut. She and I have a special relationship which is NONE of you business" I said. "We went to different schools together."

I has spoken loudly enough for all four tellers to hear and they stood there red-faced and trying with a lack of success to not look very amused. They were actually trying hard not to bust out laughing. Banks don't often get any decent entertainment.

Karen started to say something but I interrupted her. "I'm troo wit choo," I said and walked out.

================================

A month later I walked in. My teller friend was not there but the woman that was now my teller had been. She recognized me at once and told me my friend had commented to her that she had never gotten such a high compliment in her entire life!

=================================

She served me a few more times then one day she was gone and when I asked about her I found out she had been promoted and sent elsewhere. I miss her but that's life.

My guess is her knack of dealing with the public got her sent upstairs somewhere.