Just days after the announcement of record profits by the Royal Bank head office in Toronto, there were rumours that the local branch of the bank would be closed.
Several community leaders and activists had arranged a meeting with local representatives of the Royal Bank. We awaited the arrival of the greedy bankers, self-assured of our moral superiority.
I wondered where the large monthly crowds would go to cash their cheques. Telephone and internet banking would not replace the face-to-face contact required by so many of the neighbourhood seniors and immigrants. Multi-ethnic, lower-income, and inner-city communities are usually the last adopters of new technology.
In our minds the situation was clear. It was another case of the big bank against the poor inner city community. Another case of milking us for all we're worth and then leaving just when we really need them. Another case of disinvestment and greed. We were itching to tell them how we felt. It wasn't going to be pretty.
Into this den of lions walked two people representing the Royal Bank.
One was a “suit,” someone I didn't recognize. His name was Greg.
The other one I recognized as someone who used to be a teller at our local branch of the bank. I remembered Celicia because she didn't just take or give my money, but she talked about the neighbourhood more like a neighbour than a banker.
Celicia, in fact, grew up in our neighbourhood around the corner of Furby and Sargent. From an immigrant family, she worked hard in a wide variety of jobs before landing a job as a teller at the local branch of the bank. As I watched her nervously take her seat, I wondered if she was regretting her recent promotion to manager of Customer Service.
My anger toward the institution was slowly moderated by my respect for the individual. I had enough anger to blast a nameless and faceless bank, but I didn't want to hurt a person just because of where they worked. I tried to listen.
“All banks are changing the way they do business,” they explained. “The more people do telephone and internet banking, the less we need the tellers. People aren't investing in the area, and our building is more and more expensive to maintain.”
We argued our points. Her response surprised me. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I know what the face to face interaction meant for my family. I don't really want to see the branch close either, and we'll do what we can to keep it open.”
After the meeting, we talked again. We started by talked about the bank and the neighbourhood. We talked about our families. We talked like regular people, not competing interests. We eventually got onto the number of boarded up houses in the neighbourhood.
“Can you show me the inside of one of these boarded up houses?” she asked.
“Sure, if you don't mind getting a little dust on your banker clothes,” I wisecracked.
We got into a boarded building on Sherbrook and wandered through it. Tattered blankets, beatup couches and the stench of human excrement from squatters in the boarded building. She didn't flinch at the stench or the look of the place. Her words stuck with me. “This is a shame. This house could be a great home for a large family. We used to live just around the corner!”
Months later, I was invited to a meeting with several bank executives flown in from Toronto. Celicia and Darren, her area manager at the bank, had arranged the meeting. These folk wanted to see if there was a way the bank could help with some of the efforts to fix up homes in the neighbourhood.
Today the bank has helped finance much of the home renovation work we are doing. They also worked to arrange more flexible financing for first time homeowners of renovated homes in our neighbourhood. Other discussions led to other initiatives. Community clean-up days with bankers and residents. Planting tulips in neighbourhood yards. Helping develop a free voicemail service for people without phones.
Someone recently scolded me for leaving my money at the Royal Bank. “Those rotten big banks are no friends of the inner-city. You should really be putting all your money into that nice credit union that always talks about community development.”
She didn't get the irony of encouraging me to do to banks what she accused banks of doing to us. Disinvesting and deserting. It seems hypocritical to trash-talk an institution and then start whining when they leave.
Five years after that first meeting, our branch is still open – with Celicia as the manager!
I figure it's good to stick with those who stick with us.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca