Money doesn't grow on mailboxes

I was walking home from the awful yoga class around 1pm, up Second Ave. between 72^nd and 73^rd Streets. It was still a sunny day, slightly breezy and it seemed that all the babies and toddlers were out with their nannies or mothers. As I was thinking how much strollers annoyed me because of how much space they took up (the double ones are the worst), and how I shouldn’t be feeling this way because my sister is a soon-to-be mother of two, an elderly, African-American man—white hair, rectangular glasses and in work clothing—approaches me.

“Miss, can you help me? I found a bag of money on a mailbox over there [points over to the blue mailbox sitting at the corner of 73^rd and 2^ND Ave.], do you happen to know anything about this?” he asks. He takes out a blue, vynl zip envelope and in it is what appears to be thick wads of $100 bills neatly tied up in rubberbands. The front of the envelope has a label covered with a protective plastic: “Tokyo Courier Service” is written in blue ball-point pen. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry,” I say. As I try to move on, he says: “Well, thanks for your help. I am going to take this to the bank to get it counted and see if anyone is going to claim it. Will you come with me to help? If noone claims the money I think there may be a reward and if so, I’d really like to share it with you.”

Now, like any person who encounters a man who simply tells you that he wants to share his monetary rewards with you after meeting you for a total of 3 minutes, red flags pop up in my head about every 3 seconds and sirens are wailing in my head. There has go to be a candid camera somewhere, right? Or am I a victim of one of those stories I always read while at work that someone got swindled (or worse, murdered) when caught up in some overseas money scam? Just walk away, I think. Just move on and leave this man to claim his “reward” without you. But a part of me was curious and I’ve always know that out of ordinary experiences are always interesting to stories tell. And I was looking for a new one to tell. It was not about getting the money one bit. I had decided that I was going to play along and no matter the temptation (I will no longer have to worry about my student loans, I can buy gifts for people all the time, and have 4 desserts a day, etc.), there was no way I was going to consider money at all in this situation.

I’m no actor, but acting like some dumb, gullible girl was much easier than I thought. Some would say I was stupid with going along with it in the first place but really, what’s wrong with a little fun as long as I wasn’t putting myself in complete danger?

“The bank is really close by at 72^nd St. and 3^rd Ave. Let me call my boss, he’s at the Citibank because we work for several clients at different locations. He says he’s going to call around to see if there is anyone claiming the money after he counts the amount with a Citibank machine. Will you come with me?” the guy says. I hesitate but walk him to the bank. He tells me to wait at the corner outside Citibank (I wish I had insisted I go in with him to see what he would have done) and he tells me that if I want, I can wait at Dallas BBQ (across from the bank) and he could buy me a cup of coffee or tea. I tell me I can just wait at the curb. He goes in and I think of bolting. I stay—I’m still interested in finding out more about this ridiculous encounter.

The man walks back out after 3 minutes and this time he is no longer carrying the bag. He tells me his boss is now counting the money and making some phone calls to local precincts. We walk towards Dallas BBQ and have a seat on a wooden bench in front of the restaurant’s entrance. People are all around us chatting with one another or on the phone. The man is still on the phone with his “boss”…someone he refers to as Weinstein. He gets off the phone and turns to me to explain that the money has been counted and the total is $100,000 (maybe a little more but I can’t remember the exact amount). “Noone has claimed any money in the last 30 days,” he continues. I chuckle a little. “Wow, nothing in the last 30 days? That’s incredible!” I reply almost sarcastically (I don’t think he picks it up though). “Mr. Weinstein says that there will be a reward because noone has placed a claim, but he’s going to have to create a source that will allow us to receive the money legitimately.” This time I laugh in my head because 1. a reward is only given if money has been turned in for like a few months …there’s never an immediate reward. 2. creating a source means the money will be illegally changed, hence not really a legitimate reward. Anyhow, he continues on and I’m half listening and then a phone call comes and it’s the “boss.” After some chatter he hands the phone to me and makes me talk to Weinstein, who blahblahblahs about the same stuff the guy has told me and then says: “I’m creating a source for Robert here and he says he wants to share the reward with you, but I just want to make sure that you guys are on the same page with things. If I create an account for him it’ll take some time but if I’m to create one for you then I’d rather do it at the same time.” At this point I ask “on the same page? Page for what?” and hand the phone back to the man. I fully turn to face the man, look him straight in the eye and ask “Mr., you’ve supposedly found over $100K in cash, why ever do you want to share the reward with me, someone you have only met for no more than 5 minutes?” “Well, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have taken the money to the bank (ok, big nono here since he should have taken it to the police not the damn bank!). I didn’t know what to do with it so I was going to drop it in the mailbox (who in their right mind would do something so stupid when they are dealing with so much cash?) until I saw you walking and since you’re an Asian woman and I apologize I’m not very good at telling different Asian races apart, I thought you may possibly be coming back for it. Now, if you hadn’t come along, I may not have had the chance to see if there is a reward and if there is, I’d like to share it with you because you helped me,” he replies. “So let’s say I’m interested in taking a part of this reward. What would it require of me?” I ask. “Just your name so that Weinstein can create an account that you can take from. I don’t want to loose my job so I want him to create a legitimate source. So Miss, would like to share the reward?” I smile the fakest smile I can muster and say: “No, but thanks for considering sharing your reward.” “Ok then,” he says and nods his head. He shakes my hand and we walk off in opposite directions.

Second lesson of the day: Money really doesn’t grow on trees or inside/outside mailboxes. There is no temptation unless you create it. People can be damn sketchy.