Even in the early days of Jersey City PPG (Post Pre Genrtrification) there really was no such thing as an unusual event. Through the Looking Glass style, everything always was wildly spinning out of control. Case in point:
Back in early 1991, two local guys show up one day with $1500 in quarters, in professionally, machine made up, sealed rolls. Seems that the pair were afflicted with agoraphobia or some other form of severe shyness, as they were looking for someone to take the coins to a bank for them. I really thought it best to steer clear, but I also didn’t want to appear not totally permeated with the foolhardiness of the gutters of Jersey City. So, I tells them that I wants a third, figgering that they’ll walk and that’ll close the curtain on what I planned as a one act drama. I’m surprised — and worried — that they real fast like — with just a quick mutual glance say “OK.”
SO, I picks up the three weighty little cardboard boxes and start walking fast to the bank, hoping to be exuding confidence. I fill out a deposit slip — in my mind I see the bank people unwrapping all the coins, demanding like a phone book of forms get completed, and maybe even calling the Treasury or the Fed, or something.
The young woman teller inquires with sincere curiosity, “Why do you have all these quarters?”
“I was saving ’em, but with Desert Storm and the war and everything I guessed that I better bring ’em in.” (This was clearly ridiculous, but as equally so as most of what we’re told in the news, I thought it’d fly.)
The bank manager strolls over and asks the teller what’s going on with all the quarters. As there’s no Plan B, I’m a little concerned. The teller repeats my improvised malarkey like she’s reciting a multiplication table. The manager nods as if it’s all absolutely obvious.
Deposit slip accepted, I get back the stamped receipt copy. I make out a check to CASH for $1000 and give it to the teller, asking for twenties.
4 people reached