How I robbed a bank, and got away with it.

So today my TV was making vast attempts at keeping me from leaving the house with it's wild gesticulating and shouts of "hey, hey look we have films you want to see, don't go!" So I spared a thought for those of you who perhaps won't be able to stay a living couch potato, and I figured enough time has passed that I can share my tale of the time I robbed a bank - and got away with it.

Now before I begin let me set the scene of how I misplaced my morality - D had lost 12 jobs in 18 months. We'd just had to leave our home, give away our cat, were in 3k of debt and sleeping on peoples sofas while we 'found our feet.' These are called the dark ages - every relationship has them.
And yet even though we were hitting an absolute low "THE MAN" had not had enough of f*ing with us.

I had left work and gone into MY bank to sort out why they had suddenly slapped a hefty £100 fee on my account for being 4p overdrawn. (wasn't my fault, honestly, a DD took too much money by mistake and then put it back - but the damage had already been done) If you don't know how overdrawn 4p is it's roughly the smallest amount of money in your currency, doubled.
I'd pleaded, begged, threatened and schmoozed my way with the bank manager and he wasn't budging. So I left the bank close to tears unable to possibly ever pay that £100 off as £100 was half my monthly wage. Quite honestly we were screwed and prior to eviction had been living off rice (the only thing I could afford)- every stinking day - which is why I hate boiled rice.

So I'm feeling desperate and clutching the last bit of cash we have - £200 in twenties which I'm on my way to another bank to pay our rent debt with. While I'm stood in the queue I'm debating how screwed we are, how on earth I am going to feed us and how prostitution might just be the way to go - seriously.

I get to the teller and this is what happens;

Me: I'd like to pay 200 into THIS bank account, and can I have a receipt please.
(hands over £200)
Teller: Okay I'll just put that through.

Teller: Here you go *gives me £20 change in two tens*

Conscience: pretty damn sure I didn't have any £10 notes...but wait...did I?

Me: Um..are you sure?

Teller: Yes you gave me too much

Conscience: Maybe the lady before me forgot to pick up all her money

Me: Really?

Teller: Yes you gave me £220

Conscience: When I passed the cash over did he knock £20 loose from his "sorted money" I think he did, but did I see what I think I saw...

Me: Are you sure it's mine?

Conscience: I bet this is a test, sent by God, or candid camera...

Me: *takes money* Thanks

I got out of there fast. As I walked to the glass door grasping the £20 that wasn't mine, my new £20 which meant we could buy food, we could EAT, I could pay some of the bank debt off...
The backing track to my life switched to Muse "Knights of Cydonia"

Conscience: *singing* NO-ONES GONNA TAKE ME ALIVE



I ran on out of the bank and leapt onto the bus home on an adrenaline high. Swearing to God I'd pay it forward and that maybe he could not send my soul to eternal damnation.
I do wonder what sort of trouble the guy serving me got into when his section was down £20 or maybe if he got fired. To this day I'm still quite sure that the money wasn't mine, but there was (and is) enough reasonable doubt and the sheer desperation of my situation had me extending my hand and accepting it. When I got home and told D and my work colleague of my dishonesty it was dubbed and has always been referred to since as my great bank robbery. I haven't set foot back in that bank since...and you know what I learned - I learned that the poor can't afford morals, they're too expensive.

*disclaimer, the art is not mine I only steal cash - not credit :P*