Roger M. Kaye
A retired physicist reinvented as thriller novels writer

You Can Bank On It

Food for the Mice (Free to Use from Pixabay)

Some time ago I found myself with a little spare money. Not wishing to feed the mice that live under the floorboards, I took it to my bank.

I didn’t ask if the bank was financially sound. I didn’t ask if the manager was in good health and of sound mind. I did not ask to check the lock on the bank’s vault. No, I handed over my money to a clerk who took it without comment or question.

Time passed and I found myself in need of money. Sitting opposite the clerk, with a bag at the ready, I asked for some of my money, not all but a sizeable amount.

The clerk was not at a high enough level to give out money, he was only authorized to take it. A more senior official had to be summoned from their coffee break.

I then had to prove my identity to the officious official. I did not like to point out that he is new at his job; he has been at the bank for no more than 15 years, a mere nothing compared to the 50 years since I opened my account.

Having established that I was indeed me, that I was the same person he had spoken to just last week, the official asked me why I wanted the money.

I hesitated, tempted to say “to burn it” which is probably illegal or “give it to the first beggar I see” which, while foolish, is perfectly legal. In the end, I went with the truth – helping my daughter to buy a house.

To my amazement, I was then asked if I had a copy of the contract. I was again tempted to ask if he, as a banker, understood the combination of the word “money” together with “my.”

As politely as possible, I asked why I needed to show a contract to get my own money out of the bank’s clutches. I wasn’t asking for a loan, I wasn’t asking for a mortgage, I was asking for my own money.

“Bank policy.” was all he would say.

Well, I have news for the bank, I have formulated a new customer policy. I have given up on the bank’s generous 0.0001 percent interest. I took some of my hard-earned money and made an important investment. Yes, I bought a mouse trap and put my own money where it belongs, safely under my own floorboards.

And, dear reader, if you are wondering, I did show them a copy of the contract. As I have learned over the years, you can’t fight the bank, they hold all the cards.

About the Author
The author has been living in Rehovot since making Aliya in 1970. A retired physicist, he divides his time between writing adventure novels, getting his sometimes unorthodox views on the world into print, and working in his garden. An enthusiastic skier and world traveller, the author has visited many countries. His first novels "Snow Job - a Len Palmer Mystery" and "Not My Job – a Second Len Palmer Mystery" are published for Amazon Kindle. The author is currently working on the third Len Palmer Mystery - "Do Your Job".
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