A Most Unusual Artifact (4)

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The manager smiled, took off her glasses, and looked apologetically at him.  “I guess that's really not such an unreasonable idea, Mr. McGinty.  But I guess I'd better tell you a little more about how this institution operates.”

She reached behind her and produced a handful of brochures.

“What we really deal with around here are loan packages.  They have these clever brand names that the marketing department comes up with.  Each one has its own form.   All we actually do here is fill in the forms.  Some banking operation, huh?”

Her hands shuffled through the brochures.  “And here's what we've got to work with.  Car loans...remodeling loans...student loans...vacation loans...and so on.”  She looked helplessly at the brochures, then back to McGinty.   “I'm terribly sorry, but there just isn't anything we offer these days that would even begin to accommodate you.”

McGinty was momentarily at a loss for words.

“You mean to say you don't make business loans?”

“Oh, we do, but those are handled by a separate group at our corporate headquarters.   And they're pretty much restricted to companies you read about in the newspapers.”

“Oh.” McGinty nodded his head slowly, forcing a bit of a smile, giving this realization time to settle in.  Eventually he spoke again.

“Well, anyway, it shouldn't be much trouble to arrange a mortgage on my house.”

“Uh, pardon me for asking, but are you retired?  Would you be able to show enough income for us to approve you?”

McGinty shook his head slowly--more in disbelief at the idea that he couldn't mortgage his own house.  Yes, times had changed.  Finally he rose from his chair.

The branch manager's face was sympathetic.  “Mr. McGinty,” she said, “isn't there some kind of company other than a bank that you could approach?”

McGinty didn’t know what to say.  He rose slowly and headed out the front door.

The bank manager followed his progress through the plate glass window.  Instead of going to a car, he sat down on a sidewalk bench and waited for a bus.  A light drizzle was beginning to fall.  She opened the front door and called to him.

“We’re going to be closing up in just a few minutes.  Where are you headed?   Maybe one of us could give you a ride.”

McGinty thanked her, but waved her off.

© COPYRIGHT 1994 ROBERT WINTER.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.