The elderly man looked down at his hoodie.
“Does fraud wear gray?”
“Don't twist this.”
“What should a bank customer wear?”
“I didn’t say—”
“A suit?”
The manager’s eyes narrowed.
“Sir.”
“A watch expensive enough for you to notice?”
“I’m done with this conversation.”
The old man nodded.
“Then process my deposit.”
The manager turned toward the teller.
“Check the account balance.”
The teller looked shocked.
“Why?”
The manager’s voice sharpened.
“Because I told you to.”
The old man said:
“Is checking my balance necessary to deposit cash?”
The manager turned.
“It may be necessary to understand what we’re dealing with.”
“What are we dealing with?”
The manager looked at the folded bills again.
Something ugly entered his expression.
“A man who wants everybody to believe he’s important.”
The teller whispered:
“Sir…”
The old man remained still.
The manager continued.
“I see it every week.”
“People walk in dressed like they don't have fifty dollars, then get offended when we don't treat them like private-banking clients.”
The elderly man’s eyes became cold.
“So respect has a minimum balance?”
The manager shook his head.
“Service levels have different thresholds.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
The manager placed both hands on the counter.
“Fine.”
He was fully performing now.
For the employees.
For the customers watching.
For himself.
“How much do you think is in that account?”
The elderly man looked at him.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“It’s my account.”
“Exactly.”
“Then you know.”
“I know.”
The manager smirked.
“Let’s make this easy.”
He reached into his own wallet.
Pulled out two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
Slapped them onto the counter.
The sound snapped through the branch.
“Show me fifty thousand dollars in that account.”
The teller went pale.
The assistant whispered:
“Sir, please.”
The manager ignored her.
“If you have fifty grand, I’ll double this.”
He tapped the two hundred dollars.
“If you don’t, you take your cash and stop wasting my staff’s time.”
The elderly man stared at the money.
Then at the manager.
“You’re betting a customer?”
The manager gave a dismissive laugh.
“I’m making a point.”
“What point?”
“That you came in here looking for a confrontation.”
The old man’s voice became very soft.