The Unemployed Bank Robber
The Time: 2010
The Place: Central New York Unemployment Office
Conversation overheard between unemployment office employee and tall unemployed middle-aged man.
“Please state your full name.”
“Sir, is that your real name?”
“No, actually I’m Sean Connery, I use the other name to avoid confusion.”
“Oh a comedian.”
“No actually an unemployed bank robber.”
“O.K. Mr. Doe Connery, what’s your story?”
“Well you see miss, it’s a new era, and bank robberies are not what they used to be. I give you an example, right? I was casing down this joint, down on Lower East Side, Lofty was in the car and I did the inside job. I had this nylon stocking over me head and tried to push myself towards the teller. Suddenly this old bag, ehhm lady, starts hitting my with her ‘brella. I told her,’Lady get out of my…way or I’ll fill u with lead’ but she wasn’t listening, the stupid…. didn’t have her hearing aid turned on. She just kept on hitting with the ‘brella. Look, you can still see the bruises on my forehead.”
“Mr. Doe, could you get to the point. There’s a whole line of people behind you. I don’t have all day.”
“Right. Get the point. I’m not dumb you know. So I push all the way to the teller, and the man being served there’s all finished. So I pick up my gun ready for some action and boom!”
“You shot someone?”
“No who do you think I am Joe the Dipper? I have principles. No the teller’s window comes down, like boom, and she puts up a sign ‘Closed, please use next window’. I mean, what are banks coming to these days. There must me twenty people in line and she’s off to her coffee break. Is that what you call service?”
“Mr. Doe, the point of all this is?”
“I’m getting right there mam. I’ve had it with regular banks, it’s too much work. They have no values any more. I want to change my job.”
“Well I suppose you’ve come to the right place, you don’t, I suppose, have anything in mind?”
“Wellfunny you should ask that. You know, I’ve spent the best part of my life in finance, a bank her, a bank there, and I’m not afraid of the occasional fiddle, so I thought I’d be perfect.”
“Perfect for what?”
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