The Teller

I've always been a modest man. Hardworking, enterprising I think would best be said. Not very bright, in the flashy sort of haberdashery brass button way, but I have as you might conclude, commonsense.

Not excelling in school beyond third-class honours (meaning 50% competency), I decided it a safe bet to become a clerk at the town bank. Yes, my uncle was himself a Financial Accountant, and his father (my grandfather) before him, Senior Analyst, and so practicality of nephewism would save family grace, if you will.

Now, as further precaution, I took the position very early, straightaway out of academia. Having no prospects of marriage or children, I was confident that my upkeep would be minimal. Greed is a great evil, and like I said, I do believe in temperance.

The plan hatched itself.

You see, we might blame my superstitious great gram. She held that if you pass up small change, then big luck will pass you by as well. Therefore, she would stoop down, despite arthritic knees and hips, and pinch lost coins from the street, no matter the denomination. She would huff on the front, and on the back, to ward off resident evil, and place whatnot shiny exorcised piece into her apron pocket.

Well, as it happened, I also had an apron as part of my clerical outfit. It had as a bonus attribute, a zippered pocket low in the front just below counter level, where I could easily slip a bloodless hand in to warm it, on those chill November days when the Chief Executive Officer was squeezing us for extra savings.

I soon put two and two together, and thought to me self, why not join the pecuniary trend? You've no doubt seen that little cast iron bin, where patrons toss in the ubiquitous penny. Or take one, if a difference need to be made up for inadvertent shortchange. Well, having earned legitimately my 50% competency, I knew that a penny is not a penny equivalent.

Some cents have greater copper content, and it's the copper that holds inherent value. To be precise 1.5 cents to the cent if traded in and smelt.

My keen myopic eye quickly learned to discern the purer variants from earlier mint. And these would go as savings, set aside, into my apron pocket. Nobody missed a penny here, a penny there, and most were in fact eager to drop in those worthless new mints into the little cast iron receptacle. For my part, I was diligent. I bided my years. Watched. Saved. Collected. Then traded in, at the point of my retirement.

I didn't make a killing. Nor wield a noisy gun. I didn't make a demand by letter, or crack the safe code, nor build an explosive tunnel, and loot a bundle. I'm a god-fearing mortal. I hid my talents, one by one, but only for a little while. My two cents:

"There are many ways to rob a bank."

11.03.2023

FFF#4 challenge: Bank Robbery @ChrisSadhill