I am he; he is me

    This happened to me once, albeit a long time ago.  I went up to the local Valley National Bank (that's what they were called in those days), at lunch to cash/deposit my paycheck.  I signed the back, and waited for my money.  The teller looked at me, looked at my signature, compared it to the one on my bank card (note : this was before your bank card had your pic on it), and declared that they didn't match, and that I wasn't me.

    Which raised the interesting question - how do you prove you are you?  For whatever reason, my Drivers License (which must've had my photo on it) didn't work.  She was convinced I had stolen poor Terry's paycheck and was now trying to purloin his hard-earned money.

    In fairness to her, my signature - even nowadays - tends to be a jumble of random scrawls, with each one being vastly different from the previous effort.  Which makes Travelers Checks a major challenge for me.  But hey, I really needed that money.

    I kept getting madder and madder; she kept getting stubborner and stubborner.  Finally, I demanded she call her superior over.  He looked at the signatures, looked at me, and told her to give me my money.  I don't think it was my handwriting that convinced him; I suspect he just fathomed that I was real ticked off, and that if I was a thief, that would not be my  posture.