Dollar Bill

DOLLAR BILL

         Why do I love Starbucks?  Perhaps it’s the aroma of the fresh brewed coffee that caresses your face as you enter, never burnt, just strong.  Perhaps it’s the sound of eclectic jazz instrumentals playing on the sound system, or perhaps it’s the opportunity to have your coffee just the way you like it.  After all, coffee is a highly personal drink and those who drink it have many different tastes.  Maybe it’s the way that the staff knows your name, or at least at our neighborhood location they do.

         Anyway, today I ordered a Vente Frappachino, Mocha Lite, truly delicious. 

         “That’ll be four dollars and seventy-five cents Ray,” the girl behind the counter smiled presenting me with my receipt. 

         I handed her a ten-dollar bill which was exchanged for five-ones and a quarter.  “Do you have a five?” I asked.

         “I’m sorry, I’m out of fives right now.”

         “Okay, thanks Rochelle.”  I began to put the bills in my wallet when the one on top caught my eye.

         Inscribed on the upper border of the bill was: www.allthingsbeingequal.com, and across the bottom border: PASSWORD: jNc083691LtX.  I wondered who on earth would place a web address and a password on a dollar bill. 

         Well, as I tend to live my life in a perpetual state of motion I tucked the bill into my wallet, took my coffee and left the store. 

         That evening when I arrived home, I put my things on the kitchen table, grabbed a diet soft-drink from the fridge and went into the den to put my feet up and watch some television.  The evening news was full of the latest terrorist activities from all over the middle-east and there was, of course, the irrelevant chatter of the co-anchors and the weather man.  Truly, nothing new under the sun. 

         I switched off the television and made my way down the hall to the bedroom which had been dubbed “The Study.” 

         My computer is left continually on so I just wiggled the mouse as I sat down at the keyboard to bring the unit to life. 

         I was scrolling down the list of twenty-some e-mails I had received when I noticed an e-mail from an unknown sender, which I almost deleted.  I noticed the subject line: “Welcome to allthingsbeingequal.com.”  Electric sparks danced on the exposed skin areas on my body and shocks raced up and down my spine.  The hairs on my arms and back of my neck stood on end. 

         As my breath caught in my throat, I opened the note. 

         The message read:

         Good evening Ray, I hope this finds you well.  Today you were handed a one-dollar bill with our website address and a password that has been set up with a personal account for you.  This is not a hoax, and this is not a scam.  Within seventy-two hours you must to go to the website and enter your password.  If you do not comply with these instructions and with the instructions you will receive there will be consequences. 

         I was terrified.  How could anyone deliberately get a single dollar into position to wind up in my hands, know exactly when and where I received it and then send me an e-mail to notify me that they knew that I had received the dollar with the web address and the password? 

         Rochelle must be in on whatever this is.  After all, she handed me the dollar bill. 

         The next morning, I found myself back in line at Starbucks on my way to work.  I glanced at my watch, then at the people ahead of me in line, then at the people already situated around the shop enjoying their coffee. My gaze then returned to the staff behind the counter.  Sure enough Rochelle was there. 

         After seventeen minutes I finally arrived at the head of the line. 

         “Good morning Ray, what’ll it be today?” Rochelle was all smiles as usual. 

         “I’ll have a grande mocha today.”

         “Hot or on ice?”

         “Hot, thanks.”

         “Sure, that’ll be three eighty-eight.”

         “Oh, by that way Rochelle, that was really not funny.”

         “What’s not funny, the price is three eighty-eight.” She was clearly confused.

         “I think you know what I mean.”

         “I’m sorry Ray, but I really don’t.”

         “You know, the dollar bill in my change yesterday?”

         “Ray, what about the dollar bill in your change, I have no idea what you are talking about, should I get the manager for you?”

         “No, uh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, not now.”

         I handed her three of the dollar-bills she gave me yesterday, except for the bill with the web address and password which still sat next to my monitor on my desk, and fished in my pocket for the eighty-eight cents change.

         “Here you go, exact change,” I said, knowing that I had just embarrassed myself.

         “Thank you Ray, have a nice day.” She had a very confused look on her face. 

         As I left the store, I heard one of the other staff say to her, “What was that about?”

         To which she quietly replied, “I don’t know.”

         Today was Friday, and the entire business community in our town wears blue jeans to work on Fridays.  Unfortunately we also know that Fridays are three times longer than any other day of the week. 

         I arrived home at the usual time, put my things in the same place on the kitchen table and went to the study.

         I sat in front of the computer for thirty minutes trying to decide what to do.  Finally, I opted to check my e-mails, that would be safe enough.  The fifth e-mail from the top of the new mail had the subject line: allthingsbeingequal.com.  I stared at this for another ten minutes trying to consider what all of this could be about. 

         Finally, I opened the message the text simply read: “Ray, You have  forty-eight hours.”