This is my favorite time of year.

It’s a favorite time for many people, but my reasoning has nothing to do with holidays. I’m looking forward to something much more eventful.

The Wells Fargo Ponies.

Every year around Thanksgiving, the Wells Fargo Ponies appear. These adorable plush ponies come with names and stories, as each represents a real horse that once pulled the famed Wells Fargo wagons. Come November, hundreds of identical ponies perch throughout the bank, gaze longingly with big brown eyes and beg to be adopted. You can’t make a transaction without one of them bumping you lovingly on the shoulder and imploring, “Please…take me home. All I want in the whole world is a family of my very own.”

Okay, so maybe I am the only one that can hear them, but that’s not the point.

Procuring a pony seems simple enough. Just open a new account, and this year’s commemorative pony is yours.

However, there are only so many accounts a person can have. Once you’ve reached that limit, the pony suppliers cut you off from your yearly fix. I thought I had a foolproof workaround, but they got wise to the “close-account-in-October/re-open-same-in-November” strategy pretty fast. Who knew they kept track of that stuff?

One Christmas Eve, I managed to talk a bank teller out of one of the prized ponies. It was right before closing time and there were still ponies galore. I chose the most compliant-looking teller and proceeded to deposit the money I’d withdrawn from the ATM moments before.

I summoned my most poignant, “violins in the background” voice. “Wow. Look at all the ponies you have left. Sweet, deserving ponies who are going to wake up homeless on Christmas. I can’t think of anything sadder.”

I picked up the nearest pony and bent its ears down until it looked despondent. “Please, sir,” I beseeched him in my best pony voice, “I want to go home with the nice lady. Please don’t let me be sad and homeless on Christmas. Please. Please….”

He finally gave in after I had twisted the pony in to a griefstricken fetal position and mimicked sobbing. “Oh, just…take it,” he whispered sharply.  “But don’t let anybody see you. We’re not supposed to just give them away.”

The pony jumped up and down with joy and thanked him profusely. I shoved it under my coat and hurried to the door, feeling victorious.

“Wait a minute!” the guard at the exit barked as I rushed past. I froze, adopted my very best “I don’t have a pony under my coat” expression, and turned to address him. “Yes…….sir?” I squeaked, clutching my purse to my chest so he wouldn’t notice how lopsided I looked.

“You have a wonderful holiday,” he tipped his hat.

“Thanksyoutoobye,” I returned, then made a dash for my car.

I haven’t been able to get another pony. Pony security is much tighter now. Cameras are trained on them. Men in black suits count them every hour, then relay the numbers to corporate headquarters via their Dick Tracy wrist-radios. If somebody so much as picks one up to admire it, an alarm goes off. No amount of begging can persuade the stony-faced guardians to part with a pony.

It looks like I may have to resort to extreme measures. Banks get held up all the time…at least in the movies. What if I marched in and demanded a bag full of unmarked ponies? Would they just laugh at me? And realistically, what’s the worst that could happen? Would the bank really want to pay some 500-dollars-an-hour corporate attorney to stand in front of a judge and say “Your Honor, she made them give her a stuffed pony?”

I imagine the Great Pony Robbery scenario might play out like this:

The scene:

A petite redhead in long black coat, wearing dark glasses, walks in to the bank. She approaches the only available teller; a small, bespectacled, middle-aged man in round glasses who is wearing a tie with a commemorative “10 years of service” tie clasp.

Teller: How many I help you?

Redhead: (producing a bag and faking a “gun” in her coat pocket) Do exactly what I say, Mr. “10 years service,” and nobody has to get hurt.

Teller: Oh my. (reaches for cash drawer)

Redhead: Don’t do that!

Teller: Don’t do what?

Redhead: Get your hand out of the cash drawer! Now!

Teller: What?

Redhead: You heard me.

Teller: You don’t want money?

Redhead: No. Keep your money. I want a pony.

Teller: What?

Redhead: You heard me. I want a pony. Put a pony in the bag.

Teller: I can’t give you a pony

Redhead: Yes you can. Just put it in the bag.

Teller: Ponies are for customers who open new accounts only. I can’t just give them away. Would you like to open a new account?

Redhead: No, I would not like to open an account. I have four accounts here and I’ve been a customer for 15 years. I’ve earned my pony.

Teller: (Leaning in closely so nobody hears him) Look, the ponies are limited issue. I’m not allowed to give them away.

Redhead: (wiggling “finger gun” in pocket) Don’t make me use this.

Teller: You don’t understand. If one’s missing, my boss will have somebody’s head. I can’t give you a pony.

Redhead: You’re not giving me a pony! I’m stealing a pony! It’s not the same thing.

Teller: Oh. Well, you have a point there. But….no, I can’t. I’d get fired. I’m just a few years from retirement. I can’t risk it.

Redhead: Look, put the pony in the bag. Tell your boss you thought I had a gun. He’ll understand. I’m waving at the security camera now. See? You’ll have proof. You won’t get into trouble. Wow, is that a wide-angle camera lens, or does this coat make me look that fat?

Teller: I’ll give you a 100 bucks.

Redhead: What?

Teller: A 100 bucks. Of my own money.

Redhead: I don’t want your money!

Teller: Okay, 200. That’s all I’ve got on me at the moment. I can write you a check if you want more. You can go buy any stuffed pony in town!

Redhead: I don’t want any stuffed pony. I want one of THESE stuffed ponies.

Teller: You don’t understand. The last teller that gave away an unauthorized pony disappeared. We have no idea what happened to him.

Redhead: Look around you. There are ponies everywhere. Nobody is going to notice one is missing.

Teller: The ponies are numbered. They’re counted and locked in the safe every night. I think they might even be microchipped.

Redhead: I’m not leaving until I get a pony.

Teller: (tapping on computer keys) Do you know you don’t have a money market account with us?

Redhead: That’s because I don’t have any money.

Teller: You don’t have to have money to open the account. You’ve got up to 90 days to make a deposit before the account goes inactive.

Redhead: Look, little man. I don’t want a money market account. I want a pony.

Teller: If you open a money market account, I can give you a pony.

Redhead: Wait, what?

Teller: You don’t even have to use the account if you don’t want to. You get a pony, I keep my job. Everybody wins. I’ll even put money in it for you. (Digs a $100 bill out of his pocket and slaps it on the counter.) Here.

Redhead: Um….what do I have to do?

Teller: Do you have your ATM card with you?

Redhead: uh…yeah.

Teller: Just swipe it in the little machine there.

Redhead: Er….okay. (removes card from same pocket where “gun” was and swipes it in machine.) Now what?

Teller: Type in your PIN please.

Redhead: Okay. (types in PIN)

Teller: Thank you. (types a few entries on his keyboard.) There. That’s it. Your account is set up. You’ve got a $100 in it. And I added the customer appreciation bonus of $5.

Redhead: Do I get a pony now?

Teller: Yes. Do you want a receipt?

Redhead: No, I just want the pony.

Teller: (hands redhead a pony). Here you go. (digs into his pocket again and produces a bill.) Oh, and here’s another $100 cash because you had to wait so long.

Redhead: Wow, thanks.

Teller: Lightning.

Redhead: What? That better not be a code word to call security! Don’t make me use this! (Shoves hand back in pocket and makes “finger gun.”)

Teller: It’s the pony’s name. “Lightning”.

Redhead: How do you know the pony’s name?

Teller: All the plush ponies are modeled after real horses that pulled the original Wells Fargo wagons.

Redhead: Really?

Teller: Yes. You can look up the history of all the ponies on our website. Here, take one of my cards, it has the website address on it. And I’ll write my home number in case you have any questions.

Redhead: Thanks.

Teller: You’re welcome. I hope you’ve had an outstanding experience at Wells Fargo.

Redhead: You’ve been very helpful. I’ll put in a good word for you with your boss.

Teller: Can you not mention the gun thing, please?

Redhead: (takes finger out of pocket) No problem.

NOTE: The author has recently discovered that one of her barn friends works for Wells Fargo, and can get her a pony. It appears the above scenario will not be taking place. At least this year.

After years of trying to fit in with corporate America, Jody Lynne Werner decided to pursue her true passion as a career rather than a hobby. So now, she’s an artist, graphic designer, illustrator, cartoonist, web designer, writer and humorist. You can find her work on her Misfit Designs Cafepress site. Jody is one of the winners of the Chronicle’s first writing competition. Her work also appears in the Dec. 2, 2013, Amateur Issue print edition of The Chronicle of the Horse.