An elderly woman, dressed modestly but with surprising confidence, walked into a major bank in New York City.
She approached the teller and said,
— I’d like to open an account. But since I’m depositing quite a lot of money, I’d prefer to speak directly with the bank manager.
The teller, a bit puzzled, asked how much she intended to deposit.
The old lady pulled out a worn-out backpack, unzipped it, and dumped it on the counter — stacks of cash spilled out.
Moments later, the branch manager himself appeared. Trying to stay professional, he asked politely:
— Excuse me, ma’am, but… how did you come by so much money?
The old lady smiled.
— I make b*ts.
— B*ts? What kind of b*ts?
— For example, I’ll bet you $25,000 that you’ve got square t*st*cles.
The manager blinked in shock — then laughed.
— That’s ridiculous! Fine, you’re on.
The old lady shook her head.
— Not so fast, young man. It’s a serious bet, and $25,000 isn’t pocket change. I’ll be back tomorrow at 9:55 a.m. sharp — with my lawyer. We’ll do this properly.
That night, the manager couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just in case, he checked himself in the mirror more than once before bed — everything looked perfectly normal.
The next morning, right on time, the old lady walked in with her attorney.
— Did you bring the money? — asked the manager with a grin.
— Of course, — she said. — But before I hand it over, you’ll need to dr*p your p*nts. Don’t worry — it’s just the three of us here.
The manager, quite sure of himself, obliged.
— See? Nothing square about them!
— I’ll have to t*uch them to be sure, — the lady added calmly, stepping closer and reaching out.
At that moment, the manager noticed the lawyer sliding down the wall, pale as a gh*st.
— Is he okay? — asked the manager.
The old lady smiled.
— Oh, he’s fine. He just lost a hundred grand. I made a bet with him that at exactly 10 a.m. today, I’d be standing here holding the dir*ct*r of a national bank by the balls.
