While a group of bankers attended compliance school last week in Norman, Okla., the outside world kept on spinning.
A class on the Bank Secrecy Act was stopped short with news of four changes in regulations meant to fight money laundering. The teacher, who had been in Oklahoma all week, wasn't aware of the changes, but several students had gotten word.
As the compliance reporter for American Banker, I was sent to the weeklong school to learn more about ever-changing regulations and the people who have to work with them them.
The 17-year-old compliance school is run by the American Bankers Association twice a year, in October and March. For more advanced study, ABA offers the graduate compliance school in April.
When we started class Sunday afternoon at 3, I looked around our pentagonal classroom at 250 faces. A few things struck me. First, these were young bankers; the average age was 34, with 19 people under age 25. It was also an inexperienced class; half had been in the compliance field less than a year.
These factors contributed to a general sense of panic that ebbed and flowed throughout the week. With 12-hour intensive days and a faculty drawn from the regulatory agencies and the industry, this school is undoubtedly the best compliance training around.
But it's also overwhelming. Our days started at 8 a.m. and ended at 8 p.m., with hour breaks for lunch and dinner. (We slept in University of Oklahoma dorms, complete with two middle-of-the-night fire alarms.)
Most classes focused on specific regulations, starting with the history and going through potential penalties. A general class on how to set up a compliance program was well received, and many students told me their favorite class was compliance consultant Lucy Griffin's overview of how legislation and regulation happens. That session put the regs into perspective for those outside the nation's capital.
These bankers are expected to bring back knowledge that will prevent the bank from getting into trouble. Besides helping their banks, several compliance officers told me they thought the education would help them get promotions or even a raise.
Many of the teachers stressed that a person can't know every detail of every regulation, especially when they change so often. Instead, they said, it's just as important to know where to find the answers to compliance questions.
Lawrence R. Jackson, a review examiner with the Chicago regional office of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp., probably answered the most questions in his fair-lending classes. Bankers had time in each class to ask specific questions.
Self-testing was a big concern of many students. They understand regulators support it, but the students are scared that any discriminatory treatment discovered would be used against the bank in an exam.
Some bankers said they are hiring lawyers to conduct the testing, so they can claim an attorney-client privilege if the examiners ask for the information. Teachers at the school said it isn't clear if bankers can protect themselves that way.
The teachers made sure to lighten things up once in a while. In one skit, Michael Maher, vice president of First Bank System, Minneapolis, played a loan officer who discriminates against a woman named Hillary Clinton. Ms. Clinton is trying to get a loan to start a health care consulting business, Mr. Maher used every cliche possible to show how women can be discriminated against.
Mr. Maher's shining moment, however, was as "Vanna," the game-show hostess in the ABA's "Compliance Jeopardy." Forget the real Vanna on "Wheel of Fortune"; Mr. Maher looked lovely in a feather boa and long dangling earrings. Three teams of students competed to show their regulatory prowess. Those who won can truly be called compliance wonks.
Students unwound at a local bar -- Mr. Bill's -- with beer and karaoke. One compliance officer, who asked to remain anonymous, wowed the crowd with Billy Idol's version of "Mony Mony."
