the bank teller
I put all of my silver coins into a money box so that when it is full, and I am poor, I can exchange it at the bank for clean, crisp notes. When full I know that it holds between seventy and one hundred dollars, depending on the breakdown of the denominations inside.
One particular time the money box was full. I arrived at the bank and waited patiently in line. Finally, it was my turn at the window. I handed over the coins to the bank teller and waited while he put them through the machine which counts coins. When the machine was finished he came back to the window. “One thousand, one hundred and five dollars” he told me matter-of-factly. Surely this was a mistake?! I enquired of him if this was correct. It most certainly was he assured me. Already my mind was thinking- this bank teller had obviously made a mistake but how could I profit from it? I formulated a plan. I surmised that were I to take some of the money in cash and deposit the rest in my account, as I normally do, the bank could realise the bank teller’s mistake and withdraw the excess money from my account. I decided to take all of the money in cash, thus leaving no paper trail as I would not have to give any of my account details. Then, I would give some money to a relative, who would then deposit it back into my account under the guise of a gift. Flawless, or so I thought.
“I’ll take it in cash” I informed the bank teller, only to be told that they did not have that much there. A bank with no money? Preposterous, especially since I could see a drawer filled with one hundred and fifty dollar notes behind him. “What about that?” I said, pointing to the drawer. “I’m sorry, I can’t use that” I was told. What was going on here? Was this some sort of conspiracy to test my honesty? Surely I had already failed. Sweat began to bead on my forehead as I pondered the next step. I couldn’t take my silver back and take it to another bank; it was already in the bank’s system. The teller continued to stare at me. “What would sir like to do?” he asked again. Shut up, shut up, I’m thinking my mind cried. I couldn’t see any other option; I was trapped between the proverbial rock and hard place.
I pulled out the gun from my waistband and calmly fired one shot into his skull.
What a shit day.
