So I go to the bank this morning to make my huge deposit and I’m so nervous I start sweating profusely all over my work shirt. It was like waiting in line at the doctor and hoping he wouldn’t find anything fishy.
I imagined handing over the money order to the teller and seeing her face scrunch up and say, “Huh, I’ve never seen these before.” She calls the manager to the desk. He agree’s they are unusual. They run it through the scanner and red lights start flashing on the monitor, the security guy yells out, “CODE RED, CODE RED, we have a fake.” He reaches for his gun. The swat team dressed in black come crashing in from all windows, one jumps out from a ceiling tile with one of those rope thingy’s around his waist so he can hover 14 inches from the floor while talking into his walkie-talkie.
They grab me by both arms and drag me away like I’m a mental patient trying to bomb the building.
Back to reality.
There was some doctor waiting in front of me carrying a big money envelope. Everyone knew him – the tellers and random people waiting in line called him by his first name. I scoffed, ‘eh, doctor’s, what do they know.’
Then the teller calls me over. I start sweating again. I quickly hand over the money order requesting a deposit into my account and she accomplished this in about 10 seconds, no questions asked. She handed me the receipt with a smile and a “Have a nice day.” I blink, blink again, look at the slip and walk out. Did I thank her? I can’t remember.
I drive to the gas station, pull up to the pump and stick my debit card into the slot. The screen read: DECLINED
“Oh, now they catch me. This is where it all ends for me.” This time I had a visual of the swat men ransacking the gas station instead of the bank.
It turned out the credit card machine was down. I took a deep breath.
I have to go back to work. I only had a half hour to type this so don’t mind the messy grammar and what-not.