“Good morning, welcome to First Street Savings Bank” she said, for the final time, before the bank opened. Gloria had been practising to greet clients and smile, for her first day of work, as a teller.
She took a quick look into her compact mirror, just to check that her eyes were still there and her mouth, just below it, her lips parted, revealing her pearly whites, all was as it should be.
“You must always be presentable and exude confidence, you are, The Bank. The client must want to leave their hard earned money in your capable hands” That was the mantra they had been repeating during the bank training course. Gloria glanced at her hands, they looked way too dainty to be capable of looking after money. She rearranged the bills on her desk, straightened them out and placed her hands on her laps beneath the table. She sat up straight and looked around.
Mary, her new best friend, gave her a thumbs up from the reception counter across the banking hall floor. They had met in the ladies bathroom just a little earlier. She had pointed out to Mary “There is a piece of vegetable stuck to your teeth” to which Mary had replied “I know, I was saving it for a snack, for later.”
She burst out laughing which helped with her nerves, she had been having a bad case of the first day jitters.
“You are new here, I am Mary, I am going to be your new best friend” just like that, she had announced. She bustled her around the bank introducing her to everyone.
At precisely 8 O’clock the neon sign on the door changed to “Open” and the one on her desk began flashing “Now serving”
A steady trickle of people begun entering the bank and she hoped that her first client would be friendly. “Not that one, not that one, not that dreadful one” she muttered beneath her breath, as a dread locked gentleman made a beeline for her counter. She could just tell he was a bad apple, a suspicious character, his eyes where much too close together, though it was hard to tell as a mop of locks obscured his face. He probably had an aura as dark as the bandana wrapped around his face. A bag in each hand and a nasty work of a knife wobbled close to his head, part of its blade clamped tight
between his teeth.
“Good morning Sir, welcome to First Street Savings Bank. How can I be of service?” she spoke in her most professional voice and smiled.
“Greach” he said
“greach vough djer zky”
“Sir can you speak English, I can not understand you, especially with that knife in your mouth.”
He placed the bags he was carrying down, held the knife in his right hand and then said in perfectly understandable English,
“You mean you are rich Sir?”
“For the sky, I said reach for the sky”
Gloria looked up and then said thoughtfully “It is too far away. I can’t possibly reach it.”
“My name is Gloria” she said pointing to her shiny new name tag.
“Listen ‘ere, Gloria, this is a stick up” he said gesturing with the knife “Put your pretty lil hands in the air.”
She put her hands in the air.
“Now wave them like you don’t care”
“Show a lil less caring or I will cut ya” he made a slashing motion at his neck for emphasis.
She flopped them about.
He proceeded to reach over into her cubicle and from the neat pile of bills counted out exactly one thousand five hundred and fifteen dollars which he stuffed into one of his bags.
“Keep waving your hands until I leave so I know you won’t press the alarm button. You have a beautiful smile, call me sometime, my number is here” he said as he carelessly tossed a sheet of paper on her desk and winked.;)
Mary came over, shortly after he had left.
” You can stop now, he gone”
“Why didn’t you people do anything I just got robbed?”
“That was young mister Mari, his father owns the bank, he thinks he is a thug but he is really a darling.”
“But, but he threatened to kill me, he walked out with a pile of money”
“Did he now? He likes doing that to the new employees, call it initiation. Welcome to the bank Gloria”
Flipping over the paper that lay carelessly on the desk, revealed a signed withdrawal slip for exactly $1515.
My entry this week for the #Blogbattle
How to rob a bank.
Photocredit TV Trope