Put your money in your mattress
Posted: Tuesday, July 15, 2008 10:51 AM by Sarika Dani
From Stephanie Becker, TODAY producer
Usually saying you're a producer for TODAY is like saying "open sesame" or "shazaam" and you magically cut to the front of the line. While sometimes it's a true news emergency, in this case I was just one of the crowd – one of the 265,000 customers of IndyMac Bancorp who had lined up to get our money back. Backstory: In one of the largest bank failures in American history, the Pasadena, Calif.-based bank was seized by federal regulators on Friday.
I thought I came up with a winning strategy to avoid the crowds and arrived later in the morning. Not so much. I signed in just before 11 am, and was customer #290. When I left at noon, I watched as #32 was permitted to slip into the inner sanctum flanked by two security guards. They were taking 10 customers an hour. At that rate, I'd get my money sometime after the vice presidential candidates are selected.
While no one was going to mistake the crowd outside the Burbank, Calif., branch for the line for the new iPhone or a Jonas Brother's concert, everyone was in a festive mood. Some people came prepare with food, books, folding chairs. Mr. and Mrs.# 79 told me they were renting out their chairs when they got tired of sitting. (Making up the money they lost?) I came armed with magazines, sunscreen, a hat, water, iPod, Blackberry, snacks and bubbles. If tempers flared, bubbles would have a soothing effect. How can you be angry in a haze of bubbles?
One woman, # 63, was already designating herself some sort of unofficial watch commander. She gave out her cell number so those who had to leave for work could call in for a progress update. I believe I heard her describe the scene as "still watching the paint dry."
For a while I took great pleasure in watching the faces of the "line newbies" realizing the short little line was a mere fraction of the number of people actually ahead of them.
It seems I'll have plenty of time to figure out what I'm going to do with my (phew!) federally-insured funds. I'm still not sure where to put it all when I get it. But I finally understood why my grandmothers – who both lived through the Depression – handled their finances the way they did.
For months after grandma Belle died in Miami, bank statements unexpectedly appeared in her mailbox. She must have spread her fortune around to every bank south of the Mason Dixon line: First Federal, Union Bank, Miami Savings, Bank of Florida, Bank of Alligator Swamps. And maybe my grandma Fanny was on to something, too. After she died, dad cleaned out her Bronx apartment and found scads of $20-bills neatly folded in the couch, under the mattress, in drawers. He even found one stealthily stashed under the linoleum in the kitchen.
I finally got called into work and reluctantly gave up my prime piece of real estate next to the Starbucks umbrella. (Mr. #313 seemed grateful.) A bank employee came out and consoled me by saying it would be just fine to leave my money with Indy, which reopened under federal management and a new name today. And all I could think was, yeah IndyMac, the financial Temple of Doom. Maybe I'll just fold my fortune into my linoleum.
Read the news story here.
