He laughed out loud this time, drawing a few glances. “Ma’am,” he said condescendingly, “if all you need is your balance, there’s an ATM outside. This line’s for real transactions.”
Evelyn turned slowly, looked at him up and down with kind but steady eyes, and simply said, “Young man, mind your manners. I’ve been banking here since before you were born.”
Richard rolled his eyes and snickered again. The people around him shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything.
Sarah, the teller, was staring at her screen with wide eyes. Her face went pale, then flushed. She double-checked the account number, then looked up at Evelyn.
“Mrs. Thompson… your available balance is… $48,762,319.42.”
The entire lobby went dead silent.
Richard’s laugh died in his throat. He leaned over the counter, thinking it was a glitch. “That can’t be right. Must be some error—maybe extra zeros or something.”
But Sarah shook her head, turning the monitor slightly so Evelyn could see. “No error, sir. And that’s after today’s interest deposit.”
Evelyn just nodded calmly. “Thank you, dear. That’s about what I expected. My late husband always said compound interest is a patient’s best friend.”
Richard’s jaw dropped. He stammered, “How… how is that possible?”
Evelyn turned to him fully now, her eyes twinkling with quiet wisdom.
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