
The biggest banks in the world are reeling from losses brought on by the mortgage crisis. Many are struggling to maintain their stability in the face of the global impact on financial markets, where the erosion of share prices have wiped out investments and expected margins. But in the small town of Oakwood in east Texas, America's smallest bank goes about its day-to-day business the same way as it did more than 30 years ago. The Oakwood State Bank uses analog equipment, typewriters, manual posting of transactions, and employees that would have been retired more than a decade ago.
Oakwood used to grow cotton. Today, it is simply known as a town that used to be.
All the businesses that thrived there decades before have disappeared. Its 84 year old President R R Wiley doesn't mind being an institution capsulized in time, in the 1970's to be exact; and he seems proud of the fact that the bank is an old world bank, "we're run by antiques" he proudly quips. George Solomen, a data processing salesman has tried selling computers to the bank for 20 years, but he concedes that his failure had caused him to root for this last holdout against modernization.
The bank has 600 Checking Account depositors, no Savings Accounts, and every
statement is manually typed by 75 year old Lela Coates. Posting is done by her assistant, 71 year old trainee JoAnn Bing. Bank President Wiley says no automated voice system can match Lela's voice recognition abilities, and no computer has ever won the hearts of its customers; even if Lela tucks the old posting machine every night and practically prays for it to work again the next morning. The bank's customers are happy with the set up and many have repeatedly expressed that the bank takes good care of their needs.
The ages of the bank's officers and employees may be the single most important factor in retaining its customers because of their knowledge of the nuances of each depositor, besides being of the same age bracket or older. The difficulty of adjusting to and getting used to technology is eliminated, and it gives them the confidence to perform their own transactions without fear of looking silly or being duped. Also, the personal relationships established over many years had developed
mutual trust and respect between the customers and the bank's personnel; strengthening the bonds beyond mere business transactions and impersonal interaction.
This ideal situation of antiquated equipment operated by old people for clients as old or older than they are may receive a sudden jolt. The old machines could be orphaned units - parts no longer manufactured nor serviced. Computers may be the only option if the existing machines conk out. The passing away of its "specialists" could impact on voice identification or posting and filing of statements. New employees would have difficulty adjusting to the manual mode while dealing with the customer base who might resent their lack of personal knowledge on each account. They could lose customers!
There is a sense of nostalgia about living in the past and a level of comfort in the stable order of people and surroundings, even if the only thing that's advancing are their ages. The danger lies in the shattering of this comfort level when people pass
away or sudden change is resorted to by the circumstance of their conditions. To an outsider, the town's bank might be mistaken for members of a nursing home allowed to perform role playing games in a make believe bank to keep their brains functioning; but the bank is real, the personnel are salaried, and the customers are faithful. Regardless of how stagnant their growth is or how small their profits are, they are still better off than most of the biggest banks in the world. And their income is enough to sustain their simple needs, medication, and health requirements.
There's a lesson here for the "financial wizards" of Wall Street and the technology manufacturers of automated banking systems. This is Banking Anthropology 101, please take out your pencil and paper.
Haarrrwwwwk...Twoooooph...Ting!
Oakwood used to grow cotton. Today, it is simply known as a town that used to be.
All the businesses that thrived there decades before have disappeared. Its 84 year old President R R Wiley doesn't mind being an institution capsulized in time, in the 1970's to be exact; and he seems proud of the fact that the bank is an old world bank, "we're run by antiques" he proudly quips. George Solomen, a data processing salesman has tried selling computers to the bank for 20 years, but he concedes that his failure had caused him to root for this last holdout against modernization.The bank has 600 Checking Account depositors, no Savings Accounts, and every
statement is manually typed by 75 year old Lela Coates. Posting is done by her assistant, 71 year old trainee JoAnn Bing. Bank President Wiley says no automated voice system can match Lela's voice recognition abilities, and no computer has ever won the hearts of its customers; even if Lela tucks the old posting machine every night and practically prays for it to work again the next morning. The bank's customers are happy with the set up and many have repeatedly expressed that the bank takes good care of their needs.The ages of the bank's officers and employees may be the single most important factor in retaining its customers because of their knowledge of the nuances of each depositor, besides being of the same age bracket or older. The difficulty of adjusting to and getting used to technology is eliminated, and it gives them the confidence to perform their own transactions without fear of looking silly or being duped. Also, the personal relationships established over many years had developed
mutual trust and respect between the customers and the bank's personnel; strengthening the bonds beyond mere business transactions and impersonal interaction.This ideal situation of antiquated equipment operated by old people for clients as old or older than they are may receive a sudden jolt. The old machines could be orphaned units - parts no longer manufactured nor serviced. Computers may be the only option if the existing machines conk out. The passing away of its "specialists" could impact on voice identification or posting and filing of statements. New employees would have difficulty adjusting to the manual mode while dealing with the customer base who might resent their lack of personal knowledge on each account. They could lose customers!
There is a sense of nostalgia about living in the past and a level of comfort in the stable order of people and surroundings, even if the only thing that's advancing are their ages. The danger lies in the shattering of this comfort level when people pass
away or sudden change is resorted to by the circumstance of their conditions. To an outsider, the town's bank might be mistaken for members of a nursing home allowed to perform role playing games in a make believe bank to keep their brains functioning; but the bank is real, the personnel are salaried, and the customers are faithful. Regardless of how stagnant their growth is or how small their profits are, they are still better off than most of the biggest banks in the world. And their income is enough to sustain their simple needs, medication, and health requirements.There's a lesson here for the "financial wizards" of Wall Street and the technology manufacturers of automated banking systems. This is Banking Anthropology 101, please take out your pencil and paper.
Haarrrwwwwk...Twoooooph...Ting!



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