A Wandering Minstrel

In Part Five of Mich’s Memoirs our hero leaves the nest and swaps the familiar routines of Cocks Biddulph Branch for a variety of London and South East Offices. We learn of his baptism of fire at Oxford Circus, his determination to find common ground with an awkward customer at Holborn, how his knowledge as a father came in useful whilst on relief in London, and we get the “low down” on the smallest room at Sevenoaks…

Lamb to the slaughter…

I left cocks Biddulph forever and was sent out as a Relief Cashier in order to learn more of the mental and physical requirements for the front-line meeting with the customer. It was decided that my first spell was to be at the Oxford Circus Branch, which seemed to be situated in the windows of a large Store. I was to learn that this Store was part of an Empire, known as “Great Universal Stores”, or Gussie's for short). I had to take over a till of considerable proportions and, by the time I had done this, it was approaching ten o’clock and, to my innocent amusement, customers were banging on the windows and doors. Little did I know what was about to happen. As one of the messengers was preparing to open up, the Chief Clerk asked me if I was ready and did I have a list of people to whom I should NOT pay out any money without reference? Yes I was ready (a lamb to the slaughter) and no, I had no such list. "I'll get you one", he promised. The messenger approached the doors cautiously, put his foot against them as he warily unlocked, and fled; And all Hell broke loose. The "Smart Crowd" soon spotted the new, innocent, face and I was mobbed for the next half-hour, when the Chief Clerk returned with a long list and was rather upset on learning that I had already paid out to most of them. How I got through that week without jumping off the Thames Embankment I will never know.

The taming of the customer…

From Oxford Circus I was moved on to another branch with quieter conditions, where I could learn the trade properly, in Holborn. As at Cocks Biddulph branch, I was treated calmly, helpfully and pleasantly by all the staff so that I was soon able to recover what little confidence I had remaining. Life here was much easier and the customers were pleasant to serve except in one case. One morning I had the curious feeling that the office had emptied; No chief cashier, no chief clerk, no staff at all as the door opened and a gentleman I had never seen before entered. To my “Good Morning” he returned a glare, made a sarcastic remark about the office and the lack of speed with which I did my work. and coldly left. Whilst I had been dealing with him I had heard gentle tip-toeing behind the screen at the back of the counter and gathered that the staff were returning from whatever impromptu meeting they had attended. As the door closed behind the customer I turned and saw the faces of all the staff, from manager to junior, peering over the top of the back-screen, and the Chief Clerk smiled at me and said how well I had done. I was then told that the gent who had just left was considered a very unpleasant character and that everyone at the office had had a rough deal from him at one time or another. I resolved that I would "get on" with him before I moved to another office or bust, and I was wished "The best of luck". It turned out that the Gent in question had a son who was as aggressive as his dad and, try as I might, I could get no change out of either until one beautiful Monday morning I greeted Junior with a remark about how good it would be for my Allotment. His eyes widened and we found we had something in common and so I became, if not a friend, at least someone to whom he would be pleasant. He must have said something to Dad because, thereafter, he too was more pleasant. The staff were totally gob-smacked. After I left Holborn branch I learned that Father and Son got rather cross and changed their bank altogether.

Baby talk…

I visited many branches in the London area at this time and met a host of curious people, places and customers. I was learning a lot, at a time when my wife was having our second child and we were preparing to move into a house in Orpington, on the direct orders of the London Office. This turned out to be a good move as travel to London could be made to any of the main Southern termini and there was relatively easy access to the county of Kent, of which more later. All this time I had been studying for the Institute of Bankers Exams, at a night-class in Tooting Broadway. With another member of the staff I would, after class make my way homewards, stopping for a half-pint in a Pub which had an amateur Music Hall show on the nights we stopped by. More usually I caught a tram for part of the journey home and one night met a rather dejected, exhausted couple nursing a small infant, which seemed full of the joys of life. They told me how the little blighter would sleep all day and woke up after 9pm and I asked them if the baby had, by any chance, been born in the South London Hospital, where my eldest had arrived. Oh, yes! So I told them how I had visited the hospital late one night to see my wife and eldest, who was in a separate room. There, in the late evening/early morning, the nurses were playing with the babes who were having a lovely time of it. I told the couple that the only way to restore junior's clock was to be cruel and keep him awake all next day until he had to sleep at night. It worked, for the following week, there they were, looking out for me to say thank you. So I had learned something.

A singular convenience…

Back in London, I continued to visit branches all over, some of them little more than tobacconist kiosks in size, with a staff of four as a rule, two men two girls. From the West End to Wimbledon, out to Bedford, down to Maidstone, or perhaps Brighton, I was on the go, sometimes two or three Branches in a week. One very small office was at Sevenoaks. Although it was well outside the town, it had been built, I was told, beside the station for the convenience of the local Lord of the Manor in the 19th century. It had an all male staff of three and I often had to go home with the key to the strong-room, although not the combination. (Well, not always) . The latter was hardly necessary as, if it didn't work you gave the door a good wallop and 'Hey presto”! At Sevenoaks there was only one “little boys’/girls’ room” and to my knowledge there was only ever one young lady who worked there, briefly. Thus, when the law made it essential that office toilets should be clearly marked “Ladies” or “Gents^” , the single nameplate, when it duly arrived, was put in place with great ceremony and, with equal ceremony, duly Christened…

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