Counterfeiting a sense of humor
In the course of duties behind the counter, I handle a great deal of cash both coming in and going out the door. As long as the value level for the cash coming into the store is distinctly higher than the total escaping, everyone is a happy camper. Since I also entertain pretensions that I am not an idiot, it's become a bit of an ingrained habit to check the money that is handed to me. Polite skepticism is a survival trait for anyone responsible for cash handling. Even without the very real possibility that someone will attempt to pass a phony bill or two, it seems like a certain amount of foreign currency will be swept along in the general circulation, only to be winnowed out if it hits a bank. Most often, the latter takes the form of coinage, but I've also come across a paper type hiding in a stack a customer set on the counter.
So, yes, I do more than just stuff the money in my drawer and throw back what the machine tells me the change should be.
I could really do without the nigh constant, feeble attempts at banter when I pause to examine the bill before accepting it as payment. The offering never varies. The allegedly congenial wag will invariably deliver some version of the statement of "I just printed it" and usually in those exact bloody words. Then they will chuckle in the expectation of me sharing the moment of absurdity. Of course, the idea that they would offer me counterfeit currency is utterly ludicrous.
First off, the joke was born stale. It's the equivalent of asking a woman named Jennifer if her phone number is 8675309. Perhaps, at some point in the far distant past for the span of a millisecond it was clever, once and never again. I haven't just heard it a hundred times already; I've probably heard it over a million at this point without any exaggeration on my part. Think about how many cash transactions a given clerk conducts in the course of their shift and multiply it by months if not years and total is staggering. Someone laughingly warning me to be careful because they aren't sure if the ink is dry yet does not evoke levity in me. It makes me want to blow their fucking knee-cap off and ask them if they prefer to be called "the Gimper" or perhaps the ever classic "Gimpy." Just keep your bleedin' gob shut and let me do my damned job and the ringing up of your purchase will be more pleasant for everyone.
Secondly, what if the offered tender is or contains forged bills? Talk about your awkward moments. And I'm suddenly wondering if your attempt to provoke a chuckle was a deliberate attempt to get me to drop my guard or mask your nervousness as I've not only caught you attempting to rip my store off, but also perpetrating a federal crime. One does not go to the airport and make jokes at the x-ray machine about explosives in your suitcase. One does not make jests to police officers about attacking their fellow officers. Likewise, you do not walk into a store and make light about the possibility of your method of payment being fraudulent. There may be nothing so serious and/or sacred it cannot be laughed about, but context is key. You don't know me, I don't know you so I have no accurate means to judge how harmless your comment truly is which means I must consider it a credible threat until proven otherwise.
Incidentally, yes, I have had more than one forger stand across from me at the register polishing that rotten consumer chestnut until I tipped my hand that I'd twigged to their deception.
I just wish people would use their brains for something besides sitting on and think before opening their mouths.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home