The Midnight Banker and the Hoysala Patrol

In the mid-nineties, when banking and technology were just learning to shake hands, even a pager beep could send us racing through the night. Here’s one unforgettable episode from those early days of computerisation that landed me, quite literally, in police custody!

Those were the days when technology was just making its cautious entry into the banking world, and we were its slightly bewildered pioneers. The excitement of being among the first to handle computers in the Bank came with its fair share of sleepless nights, pager beeps, and stories that would later make us smile, one of which remains etched in my memory to this day.

In the mid-nineties, our Bank was among the first to embrace technology and make the bold leap from manual operations to front-office computerisation.

Back then, our branches ran on a distributed database system, each branch had its own server room complete with air-conditioning, UPS support, and an aura of sanctity that made it look cleaner and more modern than any other part of the premises.

The System Administrator, usually a young officer, suddenly became the most powerful person in the branch. Not because he knew more than the Branch Head, but because he had the magic keys, access to the technical support team that could fix any problem when the system hiccupped and customer service ground to a halt. Even the Branch Head occasionally felt a twinge of envy, watching the young man in his air-conditioned cubicle, insulated from customers and command chains alike.

But the glamour came with a price. The System Administrator had to complete the End of Day (EOD) operations, a tedious and sensitive process that often stretched past 9 p.m., long after the branch had emptied out, with only an errand boy around to fetch coffee or load those endless printouts. Month-end EODs could easily drag on till midnight or beyond.

Meanwhile, officers like me in the Computers and Communications Department were on the frontlines of the computerisation drive. We had to plan, install, test, train, and stay awake through countless late nights. We also doubled up as emergency support for branches struggling with EOD issues.

In those early days, when neither systems nor people were entirely stable, we lived by the pager. It was our badge of honour,  and our biggest curse. When it beeped after 10 p.m., our hearts sank. The message usually meant a branch was stuck, and if we couldn’t fix it over the phone, it was time to kickstart the motorbike and head out. Unlike the famous Onida TV ad that said “Owner’s Pride, Neighbour’s Envy,” the pager was quite the opposite, the neighbour’s envy and the owner’s misery.

One such night, I was part of the team computerising our Main Branch. We routinely worked till 1 or 2 a.m., each of us handling a specific domain,  deposits, advances, interest, reconciliation,  and sometimes returned home at 4 a.m. only to be back by 10:30.

During one of those weeks, a close friend of mine, equally overworked, met with a minor accident hitting on the road divider, on his way home after midnight,  sheer exhaustion and poor lighting conspiring against him. It was a sobering reminder of how far we were pushing ourselves.

A few days later, while still neck-deep in Main Branch work, I got a call around 10:30 p.m. from another branch I was mapped to support. The officer there was an experienced hand, so I knew something was truly wrong. After two hours of handholding over the phone, it was clear I needed to go there myself, EOD issues were sacrosanct those days; without completion, the branch couldn’t open for business the next morning.

So, around 1 a.m., I set off on my bike after briefing my colleague at the Main Branch.

Midway, near 1:20 a.m., I was stopped by a Hoysala police patrol,  the city’s night sentinels. The officer asked where I was headed at such an ungodly hour. I explained that I was on my way to a bank branch to fix a system issue. He raised an eyebrow and asked where I was coming from. “From another branch,” I replied, truthfully.

Now he looked completely flummoxed. “What nonsense! Who works in two branches at this hour?” he thundered. In his mind, bankers barely worked during daytime. I suspect he might have once tried the bank exam and still carried the grudge!

Despite my best explanations, he refused to believe me. Finally, he escorted me to the police station, just for verification, he said. Over the next couple of  hours, from 2 a.m. to 4:00 a.m., he and his mini team were getting to know me, offered me a couple of teas, and slowly began to see I was indeed what I claimed to be, a tired, overworked, slightly absurd IT banker.

By the time he let me go, dawn was breaking. I was free, and by next day the story had already spread through our department like wildfire. For weeks, I was introduced as the officer who got detained!

Soon after, the management issued official ID cards and sanctioned a Maruti van for our department, so we wouldn’t have to roam around on two-wheelers past midnight.

It was a strange but proud era, when computerisation was new, commitment was unquestioned, and every night ride felt like a mission to modernise the bank.

Looking back now, I sometimes wonder whether it was passion, pride, or plain madness that kept us going through those long nights. But one thing is certain,  those early years of computerisation taught us more about teamwork, endurance, and the value of a hot cup of tea at 3 a.m. than any management training ever could.

One more tale from the era when commitment was high, sleep was scarce, and stories wrote themselves!

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