The Curious and Dastardly Case of Charles Chutsky and a Crinkled $1 Bill.
As things sometimes were for Mr. Chutsky, this was one of those times when he found himself in a bit of a financial pickle. Having tried desperately his entire life to make business work, he’s struggled to ever maintain his books in the black. Mr. Chutsky, or Charles Chutsky, Chuck as he was referred to by his customers and friends, and chucky, by his family, had never possessed any great fortune to go on about, although he figured that over his lifetime, more than 100 million dollars had passed through him and his businesses and into the hands and lives of others. In very dire moments, he envisioned himself a sort of conduit for the money gods. His service was to facilitate the ultimate destiny of the money. He himself was still not certain how to get money to stay, or for that matter, where it even comes from. Ah yes, Chucky Chutsky, was a veritable saint of money, only ever possessing it for short periods and then seeing the large sums go out of his hands as quickly as they came in.
A man of business, Charles owned a record shop, a pet shop, a comic book/sport card shop, a vacuum sales shop, a carwash and a few other small bodegas, whatever those were. The benefit to owning so many different businesses is he could leverage them against each other and borrow money from one to pay the other or use one as collateral for a lone to pay off something for the other. He had been doing this for years and had mostly maintained much of his business in the black while at the same time providing a modest living for his family. It wasn’t until the recent financial strain that Mr. Chutsky started to see funds dwindling. He didn’t worry and continued to move money around.
The reality was that none of his businesses really made much money at all. He’d merely used them all to borrow money and move into new adventures. Had he never taken any loans out against his businesses, after overhead, he would have earned a nice $250,000/year profit before taxes. That’s a decent living and, Chuck also employed and paid a living wage with benefits to all his personell left to manage his various businesses.
But the reality of the situation was that Charles Chutsky owed more money now than he was making. He’s overextended himself and now couldn’t get another loan. The dire straits were so bad that it came to the point that missing one payment on any of his bank loans would result in the chain reaction of foreclosures and great losses for each of his businesses. Chucky Chutsky imagined the domino of businesses falling and crashing into one another destroying his ever so delicately balanced life.
Charles didn’t worry. He had faith in the human spirit and ability to overcome adversity. He figured it wouldn’t be but before long he’d have everything paid off again and would be back in the black. His employees could go back to getting raises and he could really start matching their 401Ks as he’d promised when they were hired. But the reality was Mr. Chutsky was very deep in the hole. In the past he’s let one or two bills go 30 days past due and quickly move some funds around and make sure there were no more than that at a time.
But over the course of time erosion took its course and he had nearly every single bill in his name posting paid 60 days, and sometimes nearly 90 days, past due. A few of his lenders were quite through with him. And one specific lender was completely fed up with the late payments and bazaar ways Charles Chutsky. I mean, who in their right mind owns a pet shop and carwash at the same time. Mr. Chutsky was really fucking up. Behind on everything and no more money to borrow. He was now living off the strict profits of his different businesses, spending most of his days going from place to place rounding up each and every last nickel and toting it off to some bank somewhere, depositing it all and having it siphoned from his account in mere milliseconds.
Charles Chutsky resolved to live his life in this modern-day version of the movie Metropolis. He thought to himself, at least in my version there is air conditioning and cars”. Yes, a vehicle was essential to Mr. Chutsky getting around to all his shops and then to the various banks to deposit and pay the various loans and bills all now approaching 90 days late each. A tiresome task, to say the least, but he was still providing for his wife and kids and at least his house was a safe asset the bank couldn’t get at. He’d long since put it in his wife’s name.
But slowly, and ever so surely, the day came when a lender was absolutely going to foreclose and send the police. The conversation ended abruptly with the lender yelling at Charles, “Mr. Chutsky! If you do not submit your payment by 12am Monday morning, we will send the authorities and condemn your property.”
With the loss of even one of his businesses, the precarious balancing act of borrowing and paying, which was already so far beyond repair, would take its final blow bringing the mountain of debt barreling down on him. The only thing at that point would be to pray for death, and for his life insurance policy to pay out and secure a decent life for his wife and kids.
So Chucky Chutsky went about collecting the meager sums of money each of his businesses garnered and by Sunday evening, the night before foreclosure would begin, he finished counting the last dollar on what was owed to keep the doors open, for what he figured, was another 89 days. The odd thing was, and a particularly funny thing to Mr. Chutsky, was the last dollar he’d counted was quite mangled. To say it was crinkled wouldn’t do the beautiful amount of damage done to the bill justice. It was literally hanging on by its last thread.
While admiring the disheveled dollar bill and contemplating the great coincidences of his life, and how moments like these seem to represent some goodness in the world that appears to save the day, flaws and all. For that was the very last dollar Chutsky possessed now, and since all his shops were closed and would not open until Monday morning at 8am, well past the midnight cut off to have his payment submitted, this would be all the money he would have until then.
Noticing the time, 11pm, Mr. Chutsky rubber banded and bagged the money and headed out to his bank. He was thanking God on the way there for the 24 hour lobby and automated teller service. “It seems to me that everything has a way of working out. ‘Ol Chucky, you’re gonna be alright,” he muttered to himself while parking the car and heading into the lobby. It was 11:32pm. He had plenty of time to spare.
Inserting his money 30 bills at a time in the slot, everything went fine. There was a security lock on the inside of the 24-hour lobby that made customers feel safer depositing large amounts of cash, especially at night. Mr. Chutsky didn’t usually use it, but tonight, being the dire straits, he was in and the imperativeness the transaction was completed, he had gleefully flicked the lock before beginning the deposits.
He’d forgotten about the tokened last dollar he’d counted until the automated teller spit it back out in one of his bundles of 30. “No worries,” Charles thought, as he smoothed the bill on the edge of the ATM machine and carefully uncurled the corner edges. He stuck the crinkled bill back in his next stack. It takes about 2 minutes per stack and time was still on his side. 11:45pm. 5 stacks of 30 bills left.
Mr. Chutsky attempted to get the machine to accept his bill with each of the last 5 stacks, but each time it was returned with the flashing graphic showing him how to straighten and refortify his lifeless dollar. He tried multiple times to insert the dollar by itself, but it was quickly dismissed each time. “Time,” Charles thought, “There’s no time for this! There’s no time for this! DAMMIT!” He screamed aloud while glancing at his phone to check the time. It was 11:58. Two minutes until his life as he knew it was over.
“How could it get any worse? Why didn’t I just stop and exchange you on the way here?” Mr. Chutsky had the dollar outstretched before his face talking to it like a person. “Why! Why won’t you go in? Just go in and that’s it! I can send you where you need to be. They won’t take any of you without all of you. Don’t you see? You have to go in.” And he tried one last time.
When the machine spit the dollar out this time, Mr. Chutsky completely lost his composure and struck the ATM with such force it set an alarm off, triggering the lobby door to automatically lock itself, trapping Charles inside. Now he would not even be able to get to his foreclosed property to warn anyone or get his belongings from inside. He was locked in the lobby. He figured an attendant of some kind would be around shortly to help him get out and he would try to make it to his property.
What he saw approaching the glass windows to the 24-hour lobby though were the flashing red and blues. He’d set off the robbery alarm and they were coming in hot. The soldiers jumped out of the swat van in full gear and marched directly at him. Through their camera feed they could see he was unarmed. The police came in and arrested him and took him away, Mr. Chutsky still clutching the crinkled dollar bill in his bruised fist.