From my Writer’s Class MY FINANCIAL CAREER. When I go into a bank I get rattled, the clerks rattle me, the tellers rattle me, the sight of the money rattles me, everything rattles me. The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business I become an irresponsible idiot. I knew this beforehand so when my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month I felt the bank was the only place for it so I went in and looked timidly at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must needs consult the manager. I went up to a counter. The account was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. “Can I see the manager” I said and I added solemnly “alone.” I don’t know why I said alone. “Certainly,” said the accountant and he fetched him. The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-sixty dollars from my pocket. “Are you the manager” I said. God knows I didn’t doubt it. “Yes,” he said. “Can I see” I asked, “Alone?” I didn’t want to say alone again. The manager looked at me in some alarm. He thought that I had an awful secret to reveal. “Come in here” he said and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in a lock. “We’re safe here from interruption. Sit down.” We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak. “You’re one of Pinkerton’s men” he said. He gathered from my serious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking and it made me worse. “No, not from Pinkerton” I said seeming to imply that I was from a rival agency. “To tell the truth I am not a detective at all, I’ve come to open an account. I intend to keep all this money in this bank.” The manager looked relieved but still serious. He now concluded that I was a son of Baron von Dittersdorf. “A large account I suppose” he replied. Fairly large,” I whispered. I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly.” The manager got up and went to the door. He called to the accountant. “Mr. Montgomery,” he said unkindly loud, “he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning.” I arose. A bigger door stood open at the side of the room. “Good morning” I said. He stepped into the safe. “Come out” said the manager coldly and showed me to the other way. I went up to the accountant’s with him and poked the ball of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick. My face was ghastly pale. “Here,” I said, deposit it.” The tone of the words seemed to mean let us do this thing whilst the fit is upon us. He took the money and gave it to another clerk. He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam before my eyes. “Is it deposited” I asked in a hollow vibrating voice. “It is” said the accountant. “Then I want to write out a check.” My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. Someone gave me a checkbook through a wicket and someone else told me how to write it out. The people in the bank had the impression that I was an invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the check and passed it to the clerk. “What, are you taking it all out again?” he asked in great surprise. Then I realized I had written fifty-six instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had a feeling it was impossible to explain the thing. All the clerks had stopped their work to look at me. Reckless with misery I made a plunge. “Yes, the whole thing.” “You withdraw your money from the bank?” “Every cent of it.” “Are you not going to deposit anymore?” said the astonished clerk. “Never!” An idiot hope struck me that they might think someone had insulted me while I was writing the check and that I had changed my mind. I made an attempt to look like a man with a fearfully quick temper. The clerk prepared to pay the money. “How will you have it” he said. “What?” “How will you have it?” “Oh.” I caught his meaning and said without even trying to think, “In fifties.” He gave me a fifty dollar bill. “And the six” he asked dryly. “In sixes” I said. He gave it me and I left out. As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my trouser pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a sock.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 01:01:34 +0000
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