Bank Employee Accuses Me Of Faking A Check. He Regretted It When I Said This

It happened after lunch at my neighborhood bank, right at the teller window. I leaned on the counter, gray hair tucked back, and heard him say my check was fake. I told him to cash it—once, twice, ten times—and he just smirked. So I asked for his manager and said, 'Cash it now, or you've got a problem.' They doubled down, so I said, 'Fine—call the CEO.' He did, and as the line went quiet, my phone buzzed. The name on the screen made my stomach drop; everyone leaned in as I answered on speaker.

After lunch, I pushed open the branch door and stepped into a line that barely reached the rope stanchions. Fluorescent lights buzzed, and a digital board ticked through numbers no one used. A woman counted twenties at the next window while a security guard watched the entrance. I checked the envelope in my coat and kept my place. The line moved quickly, and a teller freed up. He glanced over the partition, caught my eye, and waved me forward.

Evan, the name on his badge, greeted me with a quick nod and asked for my identification. I placed the envelope on the counter and slid out my wallet. He asked for the check I intended to cash and a current photo ID. I passed him my license and kept the envelope open so he could see the printed stub. He tapped his keyboard, pulled up a blank transaction, and positioned the items under the countertop camera.

I removed the endorsed payroll check and laid it flat on the glass so the numbers faced him. My license followed, pressed against the edge of his pad to keep it visible. He adjusted the angle and aligned them with a small plastic ruler by the keyboard. The printer hummed behind us as another teller refilled paper. Evan nodded toward the rear scanner, and I nudged the check forward with two fingers while he reached for it.