Telling Tales: The Safe

Today, I'm telling a tale on my beloved Grandpa.  Watching from heaven, he will get a charge out of this, and his getting fifteen minutes of fame, so to speak.  (Were he alive, I'm sure I would have to explain to him why being talked about on my blog would not in fact, make him famous at all.  But I digress.)

My grandpa was a creature of habit in so many ways.  He frequented many of the same restaurants, donut shops, and banks [for example] as a matter of routine -- and was known as a "regular" I'm sure, in those places.

He was also a note writer.  Actually, he and my gram BOTH were famous for jotting down notes to remind themselves of things... a habit that served them well in their older years, to be sure.

Grandpa had a box in which he kept the household cash.  It wasn't a fancy box, but it was secure in a spot where no one would suspect.  Just between himself and my gram, they called the box "The Safe."  There were regular deposits and withdrawals from The Safe as needed, and for sure, there were reminder-notes to himself about how to handle the cash.

One day in particular, he gathered some cash from The Safe  in order to make a deposit at the bank.  When he arrived at the bank, he sought out his "regular" teller, and handed her the cash.  As is a teller's routine, she started counting the cash, but halted at a hand-written note among the bills.  Alarmed, she stopped and said something like,

"Mr. B.,

Because I know you, I am going to ask you to explain this note."

She pushed the note towards him.  In his handwriting, the note said, "GET MONEY FROM THE SAFE."

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I couldn't make this stuff up, folks!  At the time (over 25 years ago), I think Grandpa explained, and he and the teller had a good chuckle.  Grandpa walked away without incident.  I'm not sure that's how it would've gone in 2014!