Text 4
A RESCUE TEAM
Fergus W. Gatwick, the Tylersville branch manager, had expected that his few remaining years until retirement would pass unhurriedly and uneventfully. He was sixtyish, a chubby apple of a man, pink-cheeked, blue-eyed, gray-haired, an affable Rotarian. In his youth he had known ambition but shed it long ago, deciding wisely that his role in life was supportive; he was a follower who would never blaze a trail. Managing a small branch bank ideally suited his ability and limitations.
To-day's exigency, he knew, was extremely serious. He checked his watch. An hour and ten minutes since he had telephoned Headquarters. Though four tellers had been paying out money steadily, the number of people crowding the bank was even greater, with newcomers pouring in, and still no help had come.
"Mr. Gatwick!" A woman teller beckoned him.
"Yes?" He left the railed management area where he normally worked and walked over to her. Across a counter from them both, at the head of a waiting line, was a poultry farmer, a regular bank customer whom Gatwick knew well. The manager said cheerfully, "Good morning, Steve."
He received a cool nod in return while silently the teller showed him checks drawn on two accounts. The poultry man had presented them. They totaled $23,000.
"Those are good", Gatwick said. Taking the checks, he initialed both.
In a low voice, though audible across the counter, the teller said, "We haven't enough money left to pay that much."
He should have known, of course. The drain on cash since opening had been continuous with many large withdrawals.
"By Christ!" The poultry farmer leaned wrathfully forward, a clenched fist pounding. "You just better pay those checks, Gatwick, or I'll be over there and tear this goddam bank apart."
"There is no need for any of that, Steve. Nor threats or shouting either." Fergus W. Gatwick raised his own voice, striving to be heard above the suddenly ugly scene. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a temporary cash shortage because of exceptional demands, but I assure you a great deal more money is on the way and will be here soon."
The last words were drowned by wrathful shouts of protest. "How come a bank runs out of money?".. ."Get it now" ... "Forget the bullshit! Where is the cash?" ... "We'll camp here till this bank pays what it owes."
Gatwick held up his arms. "Once again I assure you..."
"I'm not interested in your sleazy assurances." The speaker was a smartly dressed woman whom Gatwick recognized as a newish resident. She insisted, "I want my money out now."
"Damn right!" a man behind her echoed. "That goes for all of us." Still others surged forward, voices raised, their faces revealing anger and alarm. Someone threw a cigarette package which hit Gatwick in the face. Suddenly, he realized, an ordinary group of citizens, many of whom he knew well, had become a hostile mob. For the first time in many years, Gatwick felt physical fear.
"Please!" he pleaded. "Please, listen!" His voice disappeared under growing tumult.
Abruptly, unexpectedly, the clamor lessened. There seemed to be some activity in the street outside which those in the rear were craning to see. Then, with a bravura flourish, the bank's outer doors flung open and a procession marched in.
Edwina D'Orsey headed it. Following her were Cliff Castleman and the two young women tellers. Behind was a phalanx of security guards shouldering heavy canvas sacks, escorted by other protective guards with drawn revolvers. A half dozen more staff who had arrived from other branches filed in behind the guards.
Edwina spoke clearly across the crowded, now near-silent bank. "Good morning, Mr. Gatwick. I'm sorry we all took so long, but traffic was heavy. I understand you may require twenty million dollars. About a third of it just arrived. The rest is on the way."
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.,,. The crowd in the bank pressed around Edwina. Someone asked, "Is that true? Do you people have enough money to pay us all?"
"Of course, it's true. Edwina looked over heads around her and spoke to everyone. "I'm Mrs. D'Orsey, and I'm a vice-president of First Mercantile American Bank. Despite any rumours you may have heard, our bank is sound, solvent, and has no problems which we cannot handle. We have ample cash reserves to repay any depositor - in Tylersville or anywhere else."
The smartly dressed woman who had spoken earlier, said, "Maybe that's true. Or maybe you are just saying so, hoping we'll believe it. Either way, I'm taking my money out today."
"That's your privilege," Edwina said.
Exercise 1. Answer the following questions based on the content of the text: 1 . How ambitious was Fergus W. Gatwick?
Do some research and explain what the word "Rotarian" means.
Explain the meaning of or give the Russian/Ukrainian equivalent of theidiom "to blaze a trail". Use a dictionary.
What did the poultry farmer Steve want?
How did Gatwick explain the situation with Steve's money to the citizens?
Can the clients' behaviour be an illustration of a "chain reaction"?
What was the cause of Gatwick's physical fear?
Who saved Gatwick in this situation?
9. Did Edwina's words make a smartly dressed woman change her decision?Exercise 2. Find English equivalents in the text to the following words and
word-combinations:
(2 word-combinations)
OroposKCHHaa CMaxemie
sanac HanHHHbix