Jackson pulled into the bank's parking lot, his sleek car looking comically out of place next to the beat-up sedans and minivans. He took a deep breath, straightened his designer tie, and stepped out, feeling like a fraud in his expensive suit.
"Alright, Jackson," he muttered to himself. "Just act natural. You're not a time traveler or a secret millionaire. You're just a normal guy with a totally normal banking problem."
He strode through the automatic doors, trying to exude confidence. The bank's interior was a beige nightmare, with motivational posters on every surface.
He approached the teller's window, his heart pounding. The elderly woman behind the counter peered at him over her glasses.
"How can I help you today, sir?"
"Uh, yeah. My account seems to be disabled. I was hoping to
