The Bank Teller
The turnover rate was high. The head teller training Marcy had yet to celebrate her one-year anniversary.
That was the basis of Marcy’s explanation to the police afterward.
Third day on the job. She watched the man in costume enter the bank. Delighted her. Calmed her nerves, really. “Can I help you?”
“I bet you can.”
She smiled. “Baseball player, right? The Halloween costume?”
“Actually, bank robber.”
She giggled. “But you’re wearing a ball cap. And you don’t have a–”
He pulled a Ruger .38 from his waist.
“Oh!” She clasped her hands together in delight. “It almost looks real. Can I see?”
“What? No,” he snarled. Tossed a canvas bag on the counter. “Fill that up.”
“I’m new sir, but even I know we have a policy of one candy per customer.” She glanced over his shoulder, then whispered. “One trick is to leave and then visit the drive-thru.”
He glared at her. “Do you know who I am?”
She looked closely under the brim of his hat. Nervous now. “No, sir.”
“Good,” he said. “I’ll come back tomorrow to rob a different teller.” He rushed out, removing his hat for the cameras in the parking lot.