Tom and I both bank at credit unions. We like the no-to-low fees. They often offer higher interest rates on savings accounts. And there is that feeling that you are part of a small community. Tellers learn your name, know in what denominations you want your withdrawal, and know to not push every loan/credit offer down your throat.
There was also some convenience to our credit unions. His he choose in Lakeland, near where he originally worked when he moved to Florida. Mine had a military connection and had its own small branch inside the building where I was a defense contractor.
That convenience is no longer there for either of us. But
we I sucked up the commute for all the other reasons listed. (Did I ever tell you Tom’s expense checks come in real check form? He traveled 100% for two years. I was at the bank at least twice a month or I couldn’t pay the bills.)
Now that we are planning to move out of Florida entirely, we decided it was time to bite the bullet and choose a national bank. One that I worked with on my Gma’s estate stood out to us as having some good benefits and easy online access. And the offer an app where you can take a picture of a check for deposit, something we’ve longed for these many random treks down Ulmerton.
I do like that the branch closest to us is rather small. It kind of gives you that small community feel of a credit union. And it’s evident that they want to impress upon that message as well. Maybe a bit too much.
We went in today and had to wait a minute to see someone. The branch manager came over to say hi, make sure we knew they’d get to us soon. She took my name and entered it in a computer. A few minutes later she came back and said she’d help us herself.
On the walk to her office she turned to me all chummy and said, “So you were able to bring your husband, W, today?”
“Uhh…no. That’s my old husband. This one is Tom.”
The lesson? Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet.