A WIN-WIN Situation

Online banking gives you the option to transfer money to your friends’ accounts through their account numbers as well as through their phone numbers, as long as their phone numbers match what the bank has in their profile. You would think that is common sense, right!!

Certain customers of mine refuse to do online banking and prefer to come to the branch and sit down waiting for me, sometimes for hours, to check their recent transactions. Some of them come every day, I kid you not, every day. When they don't find me, they tell me next day that they came and I was NOT there, oooooh, how dare I? 

One of them was apparently more sophisticated and was able to break that myth and utilize online banking. His friend gave him his account number and specifically asked him to transfer money to his account online via that number. He however was adventurous and decided to use a phone number instead of the account number and now the money is lost.

I asked the customer, why did you choose to use your friend’s phone number for the transfer when you have his account number? 

I did not use my friend's phone number.

But you just said to me that you did!

I said I used “A” phone number

Interesting, what phone number did you use?

I used my friend’s friend's phone number.

Oh, and now why would you do that?

My friend was with his friend so I used his friend’s phone number.

Wait, what? why?

because they were hanging out at the time of the transfer

Ummm, meaning because when you wanted to transfer, your friend and his friend happened to be physically in the same place?

Yes!

Oh, well that explains it. It makes perfect sense. Please don't do it again!

After one hour over the phone, and three different departments with three different associates who did not understand why would a customer use a random phone number to do a transfer, we located his money and returned it to his account. I thought to myself I will never win, if I push them to do online banking, they will create a mess that I have to clean, and if I don't encourage them to do the online banking, I will spend all my day going through their transactions, which they always do not remember at first then the minute I tell them I have to put them on the phone to file a claim, they magically remember. What is the opposite of a win-win situation? Whatever that is, it is MY situation!

A Stolen Moment

Two ladies in their mid sixties came for different customer service requests at the bank where I work. I said to the first one that I remembered her so well, that she was an actress, that she put me on the phone with her best friend who was an actor and who spoke my language.

As I was doing the wire transfer for the second lady, the first one came back with a big bottle of wine and told her that I was her favorite banker. As she was giving me the wine bottle she told the lady at my desk that this would take only a moment. The lady at my desk responded with "I do not have that moment, hurry up". 

Without blinking an eye, without even taking a moment to comprehend the meanness of that statement, or to form a proper reaction, the first lady said "We're all in hurry ma'm, a little kindness goes long ways". 

She gave me the wine, I hugged her and sat down with the customer who was not happy about that stolen moment. I was taken more by the kindness of the first lady than by the bitterness of the one at my desk. I was determined on creating a memorable customer experience and on killing her with kindness, the one that goes long ways. 

By the end of our transaction, she had a big smile on her face and said to me "Thank you, you have the patience of a saint". 

And I agreed. 

Yet another Gulf story!

Me:   Welcome to our bank sir, how can I help you today?
Him: Arabic….  Arabic???      Arabic!!!
Me:   That would be me, my name is Tony and I'll be happy to assist. 

He scans me twice from my head to my toe and though I don't want to make assumptions but from the friendly expression on his face, it seems that he does not like what he sees. Then the investigation as usual starts:

Him: What is your name besides that "Tony" you call yourself?
Me:   That's pretty much it sir, that's my name.
Him: Okay fine. What is your real name?
Me:  Tony is my real name
Him: But that's not an Arabic name. 
Me:  No, it is not an Arabic name, it is my name
Him: Oh so you're Americanized now. What is your Muslim name?
Me:  I don't have a Muslim name.
Him: What is that supposed to mean?
Me:   It does not mean anything tricky, just an answer to your question. 
Him: But you're Arabic.
Me:  I am Syrian and I speak Arabic. Let's get past the name issue, how can I help  
         you?

We open a bank account. During the seemingly endless painful process, he asks me how long has it been since I moved to the United States, what is my wife's nationality, how many kids I have, if it is me or my wife who is causing the problem of not having kids, if I owned my home, how much I make a year, if I pray regularly, if I cheat on my wife etc. Then he asks for my business card.

Him: Is the number on your card your cellphone number?
Me:  No, that's my bank phone number.
Him: Oh yeah! why don't you write on the back your cellphone number too!
Me:  My cellphone is for my personal use. You can reach me for your banking 
         needs at the number on my card.
Him: And what if my ATM card does not work at midnight? How can I reach you 
         then (felt like he added to this question the word "Smartass")?
Me:  You can call the number on the back of your ATM card, they open 24/7.
Him: But I do not speak English as you can see. (The tone was condescending)
Me:  Sure, just ask for an Arabic translator.
Him: Arabic translator!!! Then why are you working here? In my country we don't 
         even have to ask, the banker would voluntarily give us his phone number and 
         say to us "Call me for anything you need sir at any time". What kind of customer 
          service is this?
Me:  It's the American kind.
Him: Well it sucks
Me:   I'm sorry you feel that way.
Him: How old are you?
Me:   Well come to think of it, I am one year younger than you 
           Mr. xxx qahta xxxx mutair xxxx likha
Him: Oh please, no seriously, how old are you?
Me:   40
Him: I am forty one, how could you be 40?
Me:  That's simple, by being born forty years ago!
Him: But you look fifty Tony.
Me:  I can explain, working at this particular location for the past five years made me age a 
         little faster than I care for. I guess age is not my best friend. Luckily you look 
 and act like a 20 year old man ma sha allah aaleek!
Him: It was nice meeting you. 
Me:   Sure, the feeling is mutual!

I will need a glass of wine later, no seriously I know I will. I go to buy my favorite wine bottle from Trader Joe's and the cashier wants to card me and I go "Seriously? You want to check my ID?" She goes "Sir, better be safe than sorry, I need to make sure just in case". Me "God bless you young girl, I was just told I look 50 and here you are 5 minutes later wanting to card me. By all means take a look, you just made my day". And she did not make my day by making me feel younger, but by being nice and polite to me!

Mercy …..

Father you promised

Dad, it's been a while since you left us for what we call here on earth "A better place"

Dad it's been so hard for us, look at us we're scattered all over the place

Oh how we prayed for your forgiveness, mentioned your name at every grace

Your warm memory comes to our hearts through your merciful and kind face

Did you not promise upon your leave that we were gonna be alright?

And we believed you, yes we believed, dad you were always right

You promised but why years later, upon your memory mom's eyes still get wet

It is unfair because we're only human, so did you, now that you're a spirit, forget?

Sometimes I wonder if it was a blessing in disguise that you're now gone

Because you left us whole, and did not have a chance to see what was yet to come

That place we loved, created memories, wrote our history, proudly called home

Has now gone, and we're torn apart, surviving desperately the uncertain and unknown

Did you not promise upon your departure that we were gonna be just fine?

And we believed you, dad look at us, our lives are now on the line

You promised but why do we feel damaged, can we go back in time?

Have you forsaken us, abandoned us? do something, give us hope, give us a sign

Where art thou father, can you hear us, can you see what is going on?

Our home is bombed, our lives are burned, and No! you're not the only one 

Who sacrificed his love. Each one of us to this war lost a parent, a sibling, a son

Here we are bloodless, lifeless, soulless, we're done, oh God, we are undone

Did you not promise upon your death that we were going to be okay?

You left no will, no trust, but the legacy of a broken promise, so "come what may"

Are you in cold blood playing chess with God, killing those soldiers who did not pray?

Father, your blessings are many, but is it a blasphemy that we want to break away?

Individual Cells (The Last Word)

This is not about who says the last word 

It is not about who wins and who gets defeated

It is not about whose voice is not heard

Not about who plays a fair game and who is cheated

This is about people who have lost their way

It's about people who had a bit too much to say

About people who forgot the sound of their voice

And thought that fight was inevitable, with no other choice

This is about a city that listened so much

And when it wanted to speak, it was brutally hushed

A city that raised generation after generation

That embraced variety and differences into one nation

It's about a country that used to be a mother

And now she sees her children killing each other

A country that wrote history before history was written

That made its name her children's only religion

This is not about who says the last word. 

Yet here we are still arguing about who's to blame

Not about the individual legacy we leave in this world

Get over your ego, remember we all have one last name

This is not about who laughs at the end

There will be nothing left to laugh about but ourselves

This is about the kind of message we ultimately send

Freedom comes when we step out from our individual cells

Colors

Colors

Shades you illuminate or dim

Saturation you try to tame

To know them all chances are slim

To love only one, is a shame

Open up your eyes to colors dark and bright

Blue, green, red, orange, yellow,  and purple

Rotate them round and round they all become white

Don't limit what is naturally fertile

Palette of life is not black & white

Monotony paints with only one brush

Passionate art has to diversify

It has to fall in love, not settle with a crush

Open up your eyes to colors dark and bright

Blue, green, red, orange, yellow,  and purple

Rotate them round and round they all become white

Don't limit what is naturally fertile

We're born to different cultures, we have different colors

Many religions, but the message is always love

Our need to be right, our greed make us kill each other

Our different Gods cry over us, how much is enough!

Open up your heart to what you don't know

Accept, respect, embrace, and learn to love

It's not just your knowledge, it's the compassion you show

And love is one thing we're all capable of

Open up your eyes to colors dark and bright

Blue, green, red, orange, yellow,  and purple

Rotate them round and round they all become white

Don't limit what is beautifully fertile 

Open up your ears to hear all the music Soulful, Jazzy, pop, upbeat and heartfelt Major notes can be the arrows of cupid It's the Minor notes that make your heart melt

My Language, My Religion!

You sat across the table from me

Said that you spoke my language fluently

You asked me if I became Americanized

Do I pray five times a day or am I baptized

You asked me if I were married or divorced

Am I strict with my wife, do I use force

You looked around and scorned all you see

You claimed you spoke my language with fluency

Did my lack of interest give you the green light

To continue the judgment of your ignorant sight

Wasn't my lack of interaction back a red flag

I am starting to think you're color blind, you nosy nag

Did my cold face expression feel warm to you

Are you capable of emotions, please get a clue

When I said "that is a personal" was that not a sign

Your Arabic language entitlement has crossed the line

Let me tell something about language and religion

I'll say it even though I know you won't listen

You could be Saudi, Algerian, Libyan, Kuwaiti or Tunisian

You speak my language, but you don't share my vision
I've seen how you bombed yourself in the name of God

The scattered pieces of bodies in rivers of blood

I hear your language, I understand its vocabulary

But when you put your words together, It's foreign to me

I'm Syrian, I take pride in my upbringing

My mosques and churches are always harmoniously singing

I'm Syrian, I take pride in my culture

No priest or preacher taught me hatred on the alter

I'm Syrian, the language I speak is Arabic

You speak it too, but it doesn't mean we should click

My actions, my emotions, and my philosophy are my language

You are nothing but a barbaric, causing humanity anguish

You tried to break me but no, I do not break

I'm Syrian more than Arabic, so make no mistake

That coworker of mine, you call evil foreign

Is my family for we have more things in common

Than the religion and language that define your existence

Humanity is foreign to you, for it has essence 

Go back to your dessert, enjoy your oil and sand made cultures

We have nothing in common, I don't relate to butchers

لغتي،  ديانتي،

جلست عبر طاولتي،

قلت انك بفصاحة تتكلم لغتي، 

سألتني إن كنت أصبحت أميركياً، 

وإن كنت مسلماً أم مسيحياً،

هل أنا متزوج أم مطلق، 

هل تعاملي بشدة مع امرأتي أمر مطلق، 

شعرت بأن كل ما حولك قبيح، 

وقلت أنك بالعربي ضالع فصيح،

هل كان عدم اهتمامي بحديثك ضوءًا أخضر، 

لتحكم أكثر على ما تجهله وتسخر،

ألم تر عدم مشاركتي لمنطقك إشارة حمراء، 

لتقف عن حكمك على الغرب بإزدراء،

ألم تشعر بأن معالم وجهي تحولت من دافئة إلى باردة، 

أم أن الأحاسيس عندك خامدة،

ألم تكن عبارة "هذه اسئلة شخصية" كافية كرد، 

بأن إستحقاق لغتك العربية تجاوز كل حد،

دعني أخبرك عن اللغة والدين، 

بأمور لن تفهمها وأنا يقين،

قد تكون سعودياً ليبياً، كويتياً، جزائرياً، أو تونسياً، 

مستعداً لأن تدافع بروحك عما تسميه عملا إنسانياً،

تفجر نفسك بإسم تطهير الأرض من الكفار، 

فتتلاشى أجزاء الجثث، وتجري الدماء انهار، 

سمعت لغتك، فهمت كلماتها العربية، 

ولكن عندما أضفت منطقك إليها، أصبحت أعجمية،

أنا سوري وأنا فخور بنشأتي، 

جوامعي وكنائسي تغني معاً ببلدتي، 

أنا سوري و تراثي غني و عريق،

علمني رجال الدين أن جاري مسلماً أم مسيحياً كان هو أخ و صديق،

أنا سوري ولغتي هي لغة المنطق،

وكونك تميز حروفها لا يعني اننا سنتفق ،

فاللغة هي أداة تواصل وتعبير، 

أما أنت فبربري تتواصل كالبهائم والبعير، 

حاولت أن تكسرني ولكن أنا لن انكسر،

فأنا سوري حر من قيود الذل و الأسر،

هذا الزميل الأجنبي هو إنسان وليس كافر، 

وقد أصبح عائلتي لانه بانسانيته ما زال قادر، 

على التمييز بين الخطأ والصواب، 

القتل وأكل القلب والكبد ليس هو الجواب، 

فأذهب إلى صحرائك إلى ثقافة النفط والرمال، 

لسنا متشابهان فأنا لم ابع ضميري وعروبتي مقابل حفنة من الأموال.