It was obvious that the new job - although I got cheap records (Mullards were part of the Philips group so I could get Philips and Fontana records in the factory shop) - was never going to go anywhere and if I had anything, it was ambition - so I had to think again.
Having recently left the District Bank, I felt that it would be sensible to apply elsewhere, so back I went to Williams Deacons Bank. Having been given an interview at their Burchin Lane office - 2 minutes from my old employer, I called in to see my old colleagues. On explaining why I was in town, Mr Cato, my old boss, said 'why don't you come back here'. I went and spoke to the General Manager and they offered me my old job back.
Two days later, of course, I got a job offer from Williams Deacons, which - for the second time in my life - I turned down. Mind you, this time, I had made it clear to the District Bank that I didn't want to work in a head office department, so they gave me a post of junior clerk in their Wimbledon branch.
Now this was a very satisfactory result because Wimbledon was only a few miles away and I had easy access by bus. I duly presented myself to the branch which stood on Wimbledon Bridge. It was a small branch with only 5 staff including me but this meant that I could get involved in much more of the branch activity than would have been the case in a larger one. I was taking over from the manager's favourite (John Oates) who was moving on to 'better things'. They sent me on a course to Manchester for basic back office training.
This was at the time of the big effort to electrify the west coast main line on British Railways so travelling to Manchester on a Sunday was an awful journey due to works on the line.
I found branch back office work about as tedious as head office processes so I was a bit disillusioned but having made one mess of my career, I wasn't about to make a second. After a few months the manager decided that I should become the 3rd cashier after Colin Terry (the assistant manager of the branch) and Joyce Cann - the manager's secretary. Off I went to Manchester on another course. I found cashiering much more fun as there was always a new face to talk to. I found that I had an ability for remembering names and prided myself on being able to use a person's name on the 2nd time I served them.
These were the days when women got special favours and one of those that we maintained was that we always gave new notes to female customers - they were never to be sullied by having to take used notes. This has gone by the board, not just because of feminism but also because of the dearth of new notes in the present day. A new note is a thing to be mentioned nowadays whilst it used to be quite regular.
One thing that has changed is bank security. The branch had an open counter - so security screens in those days - so contact with customers was relatively more intimate than now. The story that always shocks me when I think about it is that of the 'used note' run every Tuesday afternoon. Because of the availability of new notes, we used to retire old notes regularly. This involved sending them back to head office. We did this by registered letter on a Tuesday afternoon. Every Tuesday afternoon, I would put together a parcel of all the old notes. Wrap it in crisp white wrapping paper, tie it up with string and, using sealing wax, impress the bank seal on the string. Then at precisely 2.30pm, Mr. Terry and I would walk down to the post office and send the parcel. If ever there was an open invitation to rob us of a substantial amount of cash this must have been it. We didn't take any precautions - we just ambled down the road. In terms of security, we were under strict instructions to never interfere if either we or the bank was to be robbed. Cause no fuss, hand over the money. That way, we would be safe and the bank was insured.
After some eighteen months, a major event happened in my life and it all came from a stupid joke I cracked. In those days, the branch would calculate interest and charges on a twice yearly basis. Because it was a manual process, it took a good amount of time and involved a lot of late night working. Charges were applied by the manager looking at each account and assessing the management charge. We would then take each account and calculate the turnover charge and any overdraft interest. This needed checking so you can image the effort. One evening at around 8.30 during this process, I said to Mr. Terry 'I will be glad when we are finished with this'. His reply of 'You can say that again' prompted me to say 'I will be glad when we are finished with this'. At this point he screamed at me and told me that I must take the job more seriously and that he was unhappy with my 'attitude'. My response the next day was to ask the manager if I could get a transfer because if I was not liked by the assistant manager then life would be difficult. After a few days, he called me in and explained that he had tried to get me a good position elsewhere but all that was available - he was very sorry about this - was the Foreign Department in the London Office.
At that time, because it was seen as a dead end, the Foreign department was regarded as the home for lost souls. In a bank where only about 200 of the staff was involved in foreign work, getting long experience there doomed you to staying as the experience was not transferable to domestic banking. So, yet again - off I went!
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