People were seated in no particular order in the banking hall. The seats were filled up. Some were on the staircase while others spread their handkerchiefs or anything else on the floor and sat on it.
Frustration is oozing out of their faces.
On the other side of the countertop were two tellers. One was busy with her bill counter. The other one was doing nothing. Registered on their faces was sympathy for the customers.
Upon meeting this state of affairs in the hall, my spirit was dampened. As I stepped into the hall from the scanning door, I couldn't respond to the security personnel that welcomed me to the bank as usual. It took me hours later to process it in my head that I was greeted by the security personnel.
"Where should I go?" I asked myself as I looked right, left, and front, and I saw transactions at a standstill. "Well, I need to talk to one of the tellers to find out what is happening," I told myself before moving some steps forward to talk to the banker.
"Good day, madam, I have come to withdraw 100,000 naira. Can I have the withdrawal slip?"
"You are welcome to Jaik Bank," she responded while lowering her hand to get the something under her desk.
"Here is the withdrawal slip," she dropped it for me on the countertop.
"Musa," she called the security personnel who was moving round to give hope to the hopeless customers. "We have someone for withdrawal here. Give him his number so that he can join the queue."
Musa came and handed a piece of paper to me. In the paper was written 59. "That's your number in the queue," he said.
"What's happening here? Where is the queue?" I queried.
"We are experiencing hitches with our servers. All the people you see sitting in this hall are waiting for the server to come back to life. You need to exercise patience and join them. Our ICT experts are working on restoring the network."
I stood still with my hands on my waist. With my eyes directly fixed on the teller, I lost words to respond.
In my head were the challenges of my family. For the previous few days, I had taken loans in piecemeal to put food on the table while I waited for my salary. The salary came almost a week into the succeeding month.
"I just have to wait and get this money tomorrow. Buying things in small quantities with loans always does damage to one's salary when it is finally paid," I had told my wife the day before going to the bank. The conversation was ringing in my head as I stood hopelessly in front of the teller.
I was brought back to the present by an announcement by the security personnel, who I noticed had gone upstairs for some time before coming down to address the customers.
"The server is back," he announced.
People crowded around him immediately.
"Please, we gave numbers to prevent confusion in time like this," he continued. "We are following the number strictly. The first twenty people should queue up and be attended to before another set joins the queue."
I went and joined the remaining people that were seated. The queue was moving, though slower than expected. As someone is leaving after being attended to, another person is being directed by the security personnel to replace the person. My prayer was for the queue to get to my turn before the closing time of the bank for the day. I made this prayer when it was 3 p.m. by my watch, an hour before closing. I was intermittently monitoring the queue and distracting my frustrations with a game on my phone.
I concentrated on my phone for a few minutes, and by the time I returned my attention to what was happening in the hall, I noticed a rowdy argument by the countertop.
"We are all here to get money for something important. Hey, the line is back here!," the last person standing on the queue said to a middle-aged man that just entered the banking hall.
"I understand and agree with you. I am only pleading for assistance from all of you. My daughter is critically ill in the hospital, and I need to get a recommended drug as soon as possible. Please help me," the man pleaded.
"My own problem is the time," I chipped in. "The bank will soon close for the day."
The assistant manager, who was eavesdropping on the argument, intervened.
"The operation time for the day will be extended so that everyone in the hall can be attended to," he assured us.
This assurance calmed down the nerves of other customers and me.
The man whose daughter was critically ill was allowed to withdraw his money. It took the teller almost twenty minutes to attend to the man. He was making a bulk withdrawal.
The bank Kept to their words of extending the working time. It was half past 4 p.m. I was waiting anxiously for my turn.
The teller stood up shortly to address us.
When she beckoned to those sitting to come closer, many thoughts ran through my mind. "Are they now closing? Is the server down again?"
"Please, I wish to plead for your understanding. We appreciate you for enduring and keeping patience with us since morning. May I regrettably inform you that we have run out of cash? We are hopeful that we will get a supply of cash from our head office before working hours tomorrow. I want to assure you that you will be prioritized tomorrow morning before others."
"I knew it, I knew it," a man standing next to me screamed. "Someone came and begged to be allowed to withdraw for an emergency, and we watched as he emptied your vault."
I was dumbfounded. I stepped back and took my seat to process the information. Did we make a mistake by allowing them to make a withdrawal? Is feeding my family not a valid emergency too? I slapped the arm of my iron chair, and I stood up.
On my way home, I convinced myself that allowing that man to withdraw was the best thing to do. His own emergency was more critical. I was among the first set of customers that arrived at the bank the following morning. I withdrew the money and purchased the food supplies in bulk.