The bank branch that I patronize and love, as much as a person can love a bank, has closed its doors.
The shuttering makes me both sad and nervous.
Of course, I know how to bank online. It’s super convenient to be able to handle day-to-day tasks from the comfort of my home.
But I also know that, as we age, the financial issues we face become more complex, often necessitating the help and advice of a banker: setting up beneficiaries, opening and closing certificates of deposit, closing accounts of deceased family members, exchanging currency, exchanging coins for paper money, understanding new laws, and getting answers to the million questions you have when a check gets compromised or you think you’ve been hacked.
The automation that is increasingly taking over customer service is limited in scope and understanding and 100% devoid of compassion.
I am old enough to remember when going to the bank was a weekly task. And I remember when lines at the teller window were a given.
In exchange for handling the task in person, you came to know bank employees, who often were members of your community.
Alas, the chores that got us out of the house and into the circles of other humans are being relegated to machines.
Now, we move money around in the silence of our family rooms. We order groceries online and have a runner deliver them to the trunk of our car. We get our own gas, order movies direct to our TV, take our restaurant meals to go and shop for new clothes by an awkward system of website purchases and returns.
We can even buy a car without any human bargaining or bantering.
Sure, life is more convenient. But loneliness is an epidemic.
Banks are just the latest contributor to a trend that is isolating customers and deeming employees irrelevant.
According to the Wall Street Journal, more than 6,000 commercial bank branches across the country closed in the last five years. The downsizing, according to the American Bankers Association, can be attributed to people’s preference for banking online or through their mobile device.
Last September, CIBC Bank USA announced that, come Jan. 16, it would shutter several locations, including Tinley Park, St. Charles, Homer Glen and several Chicago branches, Mount Greenwood among them. A letter from the corporate office stated that only five Illinois locations would remain open.
Upon seeing my branch on the hit list, I panicked, for myself and for the dedicated employees who have invested their futures in this company. My local bank helped me through the most tumultuous chapter of my life.
I fired off a letter to the corporate office, expressing my disappointment over its decision and informing them of the many times I’d relied on its staff of longtime employees to handle my concerns. I complimented their professionalism and expressed concern for their welfare.
A few weeks letter, I heard back. Corporate thanked me for reaching out and reiterated the company’s “need” to, essentially, eliminate jobs and downsize human services.
It’s a familiar refrain in America today.
Save money by severing relationships.
Although I’ve been a CIBC customer for many years, I really came to know many of the employees in 2021 when my aging father needed help handling his bills. As I pulled back the curtain on his finances, I found a hot mess that had been bubbling unbeknownst to me for more than a year.
Several bankers at the Oak Lawn branch knew him by sight. Apparently he had been going there and calling them several times a day, every day, for months to ask about his balances. They helped me untangle the mess and navigate the crisis.
A few years later, when my father passed, the manager at the branch I frequent in Tinley helped me settle his accounts.
Over the years, she also helped my husband and I handle retirement issues, which can be complicated and emotional.
She and other personal bankers at this same location have imparted valuable counsel, advising us to do a regular check on beneficiaries because sometimes when banks go through transitions, those designated heirs “fall off” the system.
They encouraged us to get our own powers of attorney and have copies of the documents readily available.
And they told us about higher-yield accounts, which we had not even noticed were available to us.
When a CD matured, they always called to remind us it was time to either roll it over, cash it in or select another investment product.
Mostly, their courtesy, reliability and professionalism gave face to an otherwise cold collection of numbers.
We came to believe this bank actually cared about us as much as it valued our money, and that this concern also was extended to our entire community.
If that sounds like George Bailey’s Savings and Loan, perhaps that’s why I liked it.
Americans have a hard time talking about money with their friends or even family members. But money is the great enabler. It affords safety, security, and allows us to dream and do the things we value.
Being able to ask questions and talk candidly with someone who understands finances and who has regular office hours down the street has been priceless.
Unfortunately, America is losing many of the institutions that made life easy and pleasant, even if they required us to show up in person. We’re losing those regular meet-ups with familiar faces, those friendly hellos and casual inquiries into how we’re doing.
We give lip service to our need for better social skills as we eliminate the opportunities to develop them. And as we deposit countless dollars into technology, we withdraw resources from our own humanity.
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at donnavickroy4@gmail.com.
