This entry is for the Indian teller of Injaz Money Transfer in Bawadi – Siteen. Just want to thank and appreciate him for his honesty. So how’s it happened?
One afternoon, I’ve been to Injaz Money Transfer Office in Bawadi – Siteen, the nearest branch of Western Union affiliated company in my compound.
16:42 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I went to Injaz for some money transfer stuff. There is no queue as always – that’s why I love this branch.
16:44 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I filled-up the required form for transferring money abroad.
Receiver Firstname: xxxxxxxx
Receiver Lastname: xxxxx
Destination: xxxxxxxxxxx
Amount / Currency: xx xxxxxx
CIF No.: xxxxxxx
Sender Name: xxxxxx x. xxxxx
Mobile No.: xxx xxx-xxxx
16:46 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Back to the teller, but there’s a 3-man queue. So I just follow the line and I’m 4th.
16:48 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Still in the queue, and the clock is ticking.
Tik…tak…tik…tak.
16:51 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Still in the queue, the teller is still servicing the first man in the line. Which I guess having more than one transaction. The clock is still ticking.
16:54 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The first man was finished and left. Now I’m the third one on the queue. Seems the teller is busy with something, he’s not entertaining now the first man in line.
16:55 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Teller is still busy. People are starting to crowd on the other teller. The security guard is now assisting / instructing the crowd to stay in line and wait to be served.
16:57 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The teller is now servicing the first man – a Pakistan national. The two man on my back who’s also a Pakistan nationals are arguing on what to put on the Money Transfer form.
16:59 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Still the teller is on discussion-sign-language-combo with the first man. I’m still in queue, watching the watch on my wrist – ticking still. The crowd is now starting to build on both lines – my line and the other line on my right side. Mr. Security is now having hard time to keep the people stay in line.
17:04 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Teller is not yet finished with the Pakistan national and I’m already annoyed on the slow service – not to mention with people on queue who fly from this part of the world without even know how to communicate. The playlist on my mind has already been repeated twice.
17:06 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
At last the teller has finished the Pakistan man, and next in line if I’m not mistaken is an Indian national making me second in line. Again the teller seems to be busy with something.
17:07 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The Indian man is now being served and discussing something with the teller on their own language – something about a “bank draft”? The playlist on my mind is in the middle of the second song.
17:10 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
At long last, the Indian man has been served and finished, and now it’s my turn…not yet, suddenly he seems busy again with something. My fingers is already starting to swell finger-tapping hard on the counter, just for the teller to know my existence. What keeps him busy? Well, he’s counting money, segregating the new bills to the old bills.
One afternoon, I’ve been to Injaz Money Transfer Office in Bawadi – Siteen, the nearest branch of Western Union affiliated company in my compound.
16:42 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I went to Injaz for some money transfer stuff. There is no queue as always – that’s why I love this branch.
16:44 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I filled-up the required form for transferring money abroad.
Receiver Firstname: xxxxxxxx
Receiver Lastname: xxxxx
Destination: xxxxxxxxxxx
Amount / Currency: xx xxxxxx
CIF No.: xxxxxxx
Sender Name: xxxxxx x. xxxxx
Mobile No.: xxx xxx-xxxx
16:46 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Back to the teller, but there’s a 3-man queue. So I just follow the line and I’m 4th.
16:48 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Still in the queue, and the clock is ticking.
Tik…tak…tik…tak.
16:51 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Still in the queue, the teller is still servicing the first man in the line. Which I guess having more than one transaction. The clock is still ticking.
16:54 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The first man was finished and left. Now I’m the third one on the queue. Seems the teller is busy with something, he’s not entertaining now the first man in line.
16:55 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Teller is still busy. People are starting to crowd on the other teller. The security guard is now assisting / instructing the crowd to stay in line and wait to be served.
16:57 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The teller is now servicing the first man – a Pakistan national. The two man on my back who’s also a Pakistan nationals are arguing on what to put on the Money Transfer form.
16:59 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Still the teller is on discussion-sign-language-combo with the first man. I’m still in queue, watching the watch on my wrist – ticking still. The crowd is now starting to build on both lines – my line and the other line on my right side. Mr. Security is now having hard time to keep the people stay in line.
17:04 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Teller is not yet finished with the Pakistan national and I’m already annoyed on the slow service – not to mention with people on queue who fly from this part of the world without even know how to communicate. The playlist on my mind has already been repeated twice.
17:06 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
At last the teller has finished the Pakistan man, and next in line if I’m not mistaken is an Indian national making me second in line. Again the teller seems to be busy with something.
17:07 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The Indian man is now being served and discussing something with the teller on their own language – something about a “bank draft”? The playlist on my mind is in the middle of the second song.
17:10 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
At long last, the Indian man has been served and finished, and now it’s my turn…not yet, suddenly he seems busy again with something. My fingers is already starting to swell finger-tapping hard on the counter, just for the teller to know my existence. What keeps him busy? Well, he’s counting money, segregating the new bills to the old bills.
"For crying out loud, do you really have to do that now?! "
17:11 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
“Good afternoon”. And the teller started serving me, I pause my playlist. The transaction went smoothly as I expected it to be – well because I have very good hand writing as if the form was filled by a computer with Arial font-face and printed (he he he, almost I guess). The teller started to input my info – tap – tap – tap – tap, and asked for my money.
17:12 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I counted the money and give it to the teller. The teller took the money and suddenly his mobile ring. "For the love of God!!!! Why now??" Of course he answered his mobile and put my money on the side of the table. At that moment I have this thought in my mind.
“He might mixed my money to the money he is counting before, and he might asked me that I gave him less because he don’t even bother to count the money I gave him before he put it down in the table. Well, if he do that, I’m not sure if I can control myself, but one thing’s for sure, he’s going to have an earful from me.”
17:14 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
He hanged-up and get back on me. Well thanks God, I’m just a lil paranoid, because that thing I thought never happened, after my receipt has been printed, I signed the paper and left.
17:14 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Outside I hailed a cab going to Corniched to buy some stuff. We agreed for the price – SR 20.00.
17:16 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The cab driver is a Bangladesh national from Dhaka. Courteous and polite. The air inside cab is pretty much bearable / breathable.
17:18 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I was checking the receipt from the bank. And I stopped! As if something had hit me! I forgot to take my change! If it’s tenths it’s fine, but it’s hundredths!!! I was thinking hard now… what’s gonna be my next move.
17:19 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
We’re taking Madinah Road now, one of the main road here in Jeddah, approximately 3 miles away from Injaz Money Transfer in Bawadi – Siteen.
17:19 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I asked the cab driver to drive me back to Injaz.
17:23 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
We reached Injaz, and I asked the cab to wait for me. I actually asked him to leave and offer him to pay half of the fare that we agreed but he insisted to wait – so ok, you wait.
17:24 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Back to Injaz, both line now is way to long like labyrinth of people. I know its kind of rude, but I just go to the counter and asked the teller about my change. I’m sure a lot of people in the line rise their eyebrows on me – but who cares I got a cab waiting for me outside and say or not – the meter is still running (I might be selfish, but not all the time – occasionally and i guess it's common to human, that when he do the bad thing he always have the justification to make that thing right.).
17:26 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Though the teller is busy serving a costumer, whom if I’m not mistaken was the man who is second to the man next to me before, he acknowledge me and asked for my receipt.
17:27 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The teller reviewed my receipt and started to count money, and returned me my change.
17:28 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Thank you and God bless you. That’s the only thing I could say to the teller. And now I realized how bad I am to the teller. Through the rest of my stay in line in there, I almost curse him for doing his job too slow, and yet at the end of the day – he is my Good Samaritan.
The lesson of the story: Do not judge people. Sometimes we tend to have a quick judgment to people around us, especially if those people don’t satisfy us on the way that we expect them to be. I just remember what Jesus told in Matthew: Do not judge, so you will not be judged. I’m just wondering, what if I openly say out loud my disgust to the slow service of that teller, and in the end, here I am coming back to him – and all of the people on the queue knew who will have the last laugh.
So to you, Mr. Indian teller, I’m sorry for my quick judgment and thanks a lot.
17:56 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I reached Corniched and paid the cab driver SR 35.00 + one homemade puto.
17:11 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
“Good afternoon”. And the teller started serving me, I pause my playlist. The transaction went smoothly as I expected it to be – well because I have very good hand writing as if the form was filled by a computer with Arial font-face and printed (he he he, almost I guess). The teller started to input my info – tap – tap – tap – tap, and asked for my money.
17:12 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I counted the money and give it to the teller. The teller took the money and suddenly his mobile ring. "For the love of God!!!! Why now??" Of course he answered his mobile and put my money on the side of the table. At that moment I have this thought in my mind.
“He might mixed my money to the money he is counting before, and he might asked me that I gave him less because he don’t even bother to count the money I gave him before he put it down in the table. Well, if he do that, I’m not sure if I can control myself, but one thing’s for sure, he’s going to have an earful from me.”
17:14 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
He hanged-up and get back on me. Well thanks God, I’m just a lil paranoid, because that thing I thought never happened, after my receipt has been printed, I signed the paper and left.
17:14 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Outside I hailed a cab going to Corniched to buy some stuff. We agreed for the price – SR 20.00.
17:16 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The cab driver is a Bangladesh national from Dhaka. Courteous and polite. The air inside cab is pretty much bearable / breathable.
17:18 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I was checking the receipt from the bank. And I stopped! As if something had hit me! I forgot to take my change! If it’s tenths it’s fine, but it’s hundredths!!! I was thinking hard now… what’s gonna be my next move.
17:19 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
We’re taking Madinah Road now, one of the main road here in Jeddah, approximately 3 miles away from Injaz Money Transfer in Bawadi – Siteen.
17:19 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I asked the cab driver to drive me back to Injaz.
17:23 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
We reached Injaz, and I asked the cab to wait for me. I actually asked him to leave and offer him to pay half of the fare that we agreed but he insisted to wait – so ok, you wait.
17:24 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Back to Injaz, both line now is way to long like labyrinth of people. I know its kind of rude, but I just go to the counter and asked the teller about my change. I’m sure a lot of people in the line rise their eyebrows on me – but who cares I got a cab waiting for me outside and say or not – the meter is still running (I might be selfish, but not all the time – occasionally and i guess it's common to human, that when he do the bad thing he always have the justification to make that thing right.).
17:26 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Though the teller is busy serving a costumer, whom if I’m not mistaken was the man who is second to the man next to me before, he acknowledge me and asked for my receipt.
17:27 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
The teller reviewed my receipt and started to count money, and returned me my change.
17:28 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
Thank you and God bless you. That’s the only thing I could say to the teller. And now I realized how bad I am to the teller. Through the rest of my stay in line in there, I almost curse him for doing his job too slow, and yet at the end of the day – he is my Good Samaritan.
The lesson of the story: Do not judge people. Sometimes we tend to have a quick judgment to people around us, especially if those people don’t satisfy us on the way that we expect them to be. I just remember what Jesus told in Matthew: Do not judge, so you will not be judged. I’m just wondering, what if I openly say out loud my disgust to the slow service of that teller, and in the end, here I am coming back to him – and all of the people on the queue knew who will have the last laugh.
So to you, Mr. Indian teller, I’m sorry for my quick judgment and thanks a lot.
17:56 (+300 GMT) 25.march.2008
I reached Corniched and paid the cab driver SR 35.00 + one homemade puto.
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