It’s kind of funny how people treat you, just based on how you are dressed.
I’m a painter, work all sort of bizarre hours, so I usually look like an industrial painter. My wife and I are reasonably successful and frugal, so along with being old we have a fair bit of money in the bank. The north is a very expensive place. Big money in the south just buys groceries here. We pay cash for everything, no loans or financing including buying all of our new vehicles and two houses with cash on hand.
I get a great deal of pleasure walking into a bank with my work clothes on, and either cashing, depositing, or getting certified a six figure cheque. The reaction is always the same.
I wait in line, and the teller sees me in my work clothes. I present them with my paperwork. They glance at it, and their eyes narrow. The immediately scurry to the back, and a cluster of tellers and managers examine my paperwork, and keep glancing from it to me. There is frantic keyboard typing as they bring up our accounts. More whispering, examining, glancing. Finally they walk over to me, with a broad smile. Their demeanour and attitude towards me has changed completely.
Happens every time.