CIBC

Not. Half. Bad.
This was perhaps the first time I ever walked into a CIBC and there were no other customers — literally none — in the branch with me. The teller looked at me with the optimistic sparkle of someone who didn’t just get stood up for a first date. (You know the look I’m talking about, Darlene.) I walked right up to the counter to begin the beguine.
My typical bank experience is ruing my existence under fluorescent lights while hating the person in front of me in line and wondering just what the fuck is taking that old lady so long — OMG, is that a withdrawal slip? People still do that at the teller? Lady, Diefenbaker isn’t Prime Minister anymore, get with the times.
This was different. My experience was friendly and expedient.
Oh, and they didn’t try to sell me anything. That’s sweet of you CIBC.
Obligatory Title Pun: Oh, say can you CIBC.
Menu Readability: Remember when they redesign their logo to include a blocky möbius strip?
Need to mention: Open until 7pm on Friday nights. Perfect if you need to take a money order to ‘da club.‘
What this place teaches me about myself: Would paying for my drinks with certified cheques get me better service?