Mistaken Identity

Dear Friendly Neighborhood Bank Teller:

I apologize for scaring you today. Yes, I assure you, it was cold outside and the dark hat concealing much of my face and the large sunglasses concealing the rest were necessary. Yes, the black leather gloves were necessary, too. And the black coat. True, I admit I probably should have removed my big sunglasses inside, but I promise, I was only trying to avoid juggling sunglasses, hat, purse, and bank-receipts and was not trying to be suspicious.

Policy must have changed here, you know; last time I came, no one offered to check the balance of my account. So, proud that I had remembered, I asked you for a check statement. You looked nonplussed. "Do you mean.....a receipt on your balance?" Yes, yes indeed. "Okay," you said politely to the bundled stranger in front of you. I waited. You waited.

"Do you know your password?"

"Password? Why, did I put down the wrong account?"

Now you looked scared. This may not be the most common response among honest citizens when asked a password; I admit it may have looked as though I were trying to cash false checks into someone else's account only for nefarious purposes - really, I had just memorized my account number and thought it was correct.

"No, you have an account number. Do you have a password?"

"Ummmmm, nope?"

"Okay. Well, we can email it to you. Do you do online banking?"

Head-shake. "No."

"Really." You sounded incredulous. I don't know why; are we in the 21st century already? "Well, in that case, I need some ID. You do have ID?"

"Why do you need ID?"

I think I saw your fingers itching to get to the emergency alarm. "For recognition. We don't want to give account information to, you know, the wrong person."

Like I'm a suspicious character or something. What is this world coming to, I thought. "It might be in my purse." I started to dig. "Um, wait. I'm sorry. I don't have any ID with me.......it's in the car. Yes, in the car." I backed away. "I'll get it."

Now this, I think, scared you more; surely, I was going for my friend Mr. Smith&Wesson or to make a getaway. Really, my ID was with my keys in the car because someone else was driving. Totally innocent.

I return. I noticed your hands gripped beneath the counter as you peered towards the door. I happily plunked down my drivers' license. You peer at it and back at me. I wait. "Oh," I think out loud, "Should I take off my sunglasses so you can recognize me?"

By this time, you have realized that I am not a bank robber, terrorist, forger, or other dastardly deed-doer. You just want me gone and tranquility restored. "No, no that's fine. Facial recognition and all."

"Thank you," I chirp as I collect the precious balance receipt. "Have a good afternoon!"

So, you see, it was a completely innocent encounter and I'm sorry for any wrong conclusions you might have reached during our little interchange. I just hope you have fun telling the story of the black-masked, incompetent identity thief after work today. I'm glad I could add some excitement into your otherwise routine work.

You're welcome.

Sincerely,

Me