Before strating his job as messenger in a large city bank, the author had never heard of a Snotty Oscar, aa polly Anna, a knocker, or a slush Fund. Old enough to understand why Bunny, the blonde messenger girl, had to be fired, he was young enough to imagine that even a banker like Mr. Over might kill himself for love, he learned that, if banking people may not always permit themselves to appear surprisingly human, they are, invariably, humanly surprising.