THE NEW BANKER.

Gisborne Times, Volume XLIX, Issue 4816, 13 March 1918, Page 6

THE NEW BANKER.

WHAT WAR HAS DONE. “WELCOME” ON THE MAT. SEEING ABOUT AN OVERDRAFT. They relate a story in the country of the cocky and tlie bank manager, (says the Sydney Sun). It tells of one purple patch in the life of a son of the soil, who, after living in dread of the local bank manager for years, and taking whatever livery worthyJiad to hand: him, struck it rich. A £SOOO Tattersall’s prize came his way, and with it the opportunity for a sweet revenge. Ho kept his secret to himself, harnessed the old bay mai'e to the buckboard, and headed the outfit for the local metropolis. He readied town, refreshed himself, purchased l two of the blackest, longest, and most awful cigars devised by man, and headed for the hank. HEADED FOR THE MANAGER, Then our friend bore off to the doer on which tlie grim brass plate indicated that the manager was beyond. Ho hit the door with a thump thatfinally smashed the dignity of the outer office, and stalked in with a curt “Mornin’, Binks.” Binks was surprised, shocked, and indignant, and everything else. “Pardon me, Mr. Hayseed,” lie said, “but lam busy. Please see the accountant. Close the door when you go out.” And then Hayseed penetrated Iris historic jest. He sat on the edge of the manager’s desk, spat on the carpet-, blew smoke over the desk, and said: “Now, old cock, how much cash will you take for my overdraft, and if you don’t smoke this cigar I’ll buy the bank and make you cat the ledgers.” TIMES HAVE CHANGED. The time was not so long ago in Sydney when the business man regarded an interview with liis bank manager with much the same enthusiasm as tlie small boy regards a visit to the dentist. Leaving liis suburban home with a fixed determination vto “put the case clearly, you know, old chap,” and ask the manager to give him an overdraft of £2OOO, our business man had reduced the prospective loan by £SOO by the time he reached the city. After a long wait in the ante-room of the Most High in Finance, lie had lopped another £SOO off. and when he finally stood waiting for the door to open on the dread interview, he was not sure even about the £IO9O. With the opening of the door came the beginning of the end. He glimpsed' a grim, figure sitting in awful silence behind a big desk at the far end of a long, long room. Tlie figure was surmounted by a head, in which were eyes that glared and a jaw like a gin-case, and as sympathetic as a meat-axe. THE FALLING OVERDRAFT. And ' with these encouraging surroundings Mr Suburbia started on Jus progress up the long room. Ere he was well through the threshold his demand had oozed to £750,. when he was midway up the room his knees were knocking together, and his ambition had fallen to £SOO. When the manager barked “Well!” at him it slumped to £250, and by the time lie opened liis mouth all lie could say was: “Good morning, sir ;-I just called in to pay niv respects.” He left the room finally feeling fortunate that tlie grim personage at tlie end of the table bad not sent him out owing money to tlie bank. But all this has changed now, and the war has done it. If you go to a bank to-day, instead of the name of the institution on the rubber door mat there is the one word “Welcome.” Within tlie grim portals of other days the manager sits and beams on you as you enter. With hand outstretched lie comes half-wav down the room to meet you. He smiles the war loan smile, and you in turn feci that it is a shame t<* ask for tlie money. It is so. easy.