The drive-through lanes were busy, but the main lobby was quiet and bright.

I stepped up to the second teller window, where a middle-aged teller named Martha was sorting paper receipts behind the counter.

“Good morning, Elena,” Martha said, setting down her rubber stamp.

“How can I help you today?”

I pulled the cashier’s check from my purse and laid it flat on the marble counter.

“I’d like to deposit this into my personal savings account,” I said.

Martha picked up the check, looked over the endorsement line on the back, and adjusted her reading glasses on her nose.