They'll Never be Post it Notes to Me

Friday morning I had to go to the bank and get the money for the ticket booths, a money counter, and make some deposits. The school told me exactly what branch to go to this time, as they’d arranged all the equipment. I’ve just been going to random branches. This branch, however, I will stay with. What a great group of people. First, one of them is a Mom at the school. Second, they KNEW everyone who walked in the door. “Hi, Mr. Smith. Where’s Mrs. Smith this morning?” or “Good Morning, Mrs. White, we haven’t seen you in awhile, how have you been?”

It was friendly banter amongst the customers and the tellers… they knew each other. The elderly men kind of flirted with them, there was a lot of joking, and it was just a great bank to be in. So I’m sticking there. And I told them so.

Anyway, so the Mom/teller says to me, “D., we have a lot of money to give you. Do you have something you want to put it in?”

I looked at her strangely and said, ‘Why?’

And onto the counter she hoists this big canvas bag, the kind like you see the big money trucks with armed guards guarding or carrying. My eyes got big and she said, “Because this canvas bag is screaming, “I’M CARRYING A LOT OF MONEY!!!!””.

Holy crap, Lions Tours.

So I went to my car to see if I had a beach bag or a backpack. Nothing. All I had was a suit jacket I had to wear to a meeting later in the day. So I came inside, they had me walk into a damn vault to pick it up (and it was heavy as it had $250 in quarters), and covered it with a jacket. It just felt… creepy. They walked me to my car and I had a 1 mile drive to the school to drop it off.

I walk in a little on edge. The women in the back that are on my money crew are laughing at me saying, “By the end of the day, the money won’t bother you. It’ll be like handling post it notes.”

Wrong. All three days… it bothered me. Ick.