Not What They Mean By A Dollar-Printing Factory  

I work for a bank as a travelling teller. I go to one of my branches in the area for the day and encounter a number of dumbfounding experiences. This one woman, though, takes the cake.

She approaches my window asking to exchange one of her $100 bills for a newer, crispier one. No problem at all, so I grab a brand-spanking-new $100 bill and ask if she would like an envelope to keep it looking nice, as she said it was for a gift.

She snatches it from my hand, inspects it closely, and throws it on the counter, dissatisfied, saying that it isn’t new, and she needs a new one.

Confused, I oblige in her request to go through all the $6,000 in $100 bills my coworker and I have. Again, none are up to par for her, so I politely tell her that we have gone through everything we have, and perhaps she could try a different branch? Mind you, we have quite a few brand-new bills, but she is under the impression they are not new.

She responds to me with, “Well, you went back in that little room to get more to show me; why can’t you just print me a new one?” I can’t do anything but look at her with a dead stare and contemplate whether she is serious or not. When I finally respond that we can not print her a new $100 bill, she gets very angry and leaves in a huff.