AUDITORS

Internal Auditors. They were the corps ​d'elite who were armed with the most feared device in the bank: the green pen.

In the 70s they were tough, no-nonsense people who would rather read procedure manuals than have a bubble bath with their favourite celebrity.

They operated in packs, and their modus operandi involved the element of surprise. On the day of their surprise “attack” they would stealthily arrive in town, check into their motel for the projected length of their stay and eagerly watch the clock’s arms move slowly towards the appointed time. At zero minus 5 minutes they would make their way to the site, then at precisely 3pm, they would enter the branch an announce their arrival just as the front doors were about to close.

Their first task was to count the tellers’ cash to ensure they were not telling fibs about the amount they had in their custody. Stories abound about naughty tellers who would “borrow” some cash to fund a night out or to have a punt on a certainty in race 3 at Randwick. Such naughtiness was against the rules, in particular the one that says, “You shall not steal”. Instant dismissal was the usual penalty.

After the cash count these auditors returned to their motel, had a nice meal and a glass of red, while the staff at the branch were dreading the next week or so.

The next morning these auditors would return to the branch and spend a week or so reviewing almost every aspect of the branches activities. They would be armed with the Bank's Policies and Procedural manuals and make notes on files, in green ink of course, where the rules were not precisely followed.

At the conclusion of their inspection they would leave their Audit Report, and be real dobbers by sending a copy to Head Office.

Then, they would head to the next branch where they would once again dine lavishly each night and sip a red wine or two

Oh, to be an auditor.