When the month is longer than the money

A Louisville man just wanted his money

Louisville, Ky

I’ve been wandering through Downtown Louisville for several days. Something about how sanitized this section of the city felt all too familiar. Not quite too curated but I was looking for the humanity in the city.

It was 11am and I was waiting for the Muhammad Ali Center to open up. With my headphones in blaing whatever affirmational R&B something that shuffle chose as my walking anthem, I happened upon a credit union and something compelled me to believe I needed walking around money.

I was a block away from a recovery center where men were standing outside on a cigarette break from their AA or NA meeting.

I walked in behind an older Black man who was asking about his deposit. It's the end of the month but the teller informs him that his bank account says pending. He doesn’t understand what that means. So the teller attempts to explain but this isn’t the answer the man is looking for.

I recognize those “end of the month” blues. The moment when the month was longer than the money. You've reached the end of dollars and all that is left are coins, receipts and memories in your pocket.

The man asked to make withdrawal still not understanding that even though the balance is positive he couldn't make a withdrawal because the money hasn't fully deposited. It's pending.

For 5 minutes the teller attempts to explain the gentleman can't access his funds. I finally put on the “auntie tone” and say “Bey, the money isn’t deposited yet. If you don’t have a debit card, you can’t get your money until Monday.”

I channel my grandmother’s accent when I say this— a hint of Creole, a splash of venom smothered in honey.

He takes notice and stops asking questions that he knows the answer to. “But today is Friday and y’all closed tomorrow.” The teller eyes remained soft through this exchange. He also knows this moment and offers a professional apologetic “Yes, we’re closed tomorrow”.

The man now resolved, heads toward the door, understanding that cash is no longer king. The world has moved into a space that he wasn’t prepared for, one where dollars you can’t see can disappear with a swipe, if you don’t keep count. He walks out of the doors and I begin my transaction. The teller mouths a silent “thank you”.

Before I sign off on the meager funds that I have access to, I see the gentleman has returned. A second teller is at the window next to me. He asks if he can order a debit card and will it be issued to him today.

The teller says “Yes, we can print you one here.”