Imagine you are a teller at a small bank branch.

A wimpy little punk wanders in with a backpack, slides it across the counter, and demands that you fill it up with cash.

You are now in the middle of a bank robbery.

You have a few options.

First, you could let loose a stream of water that trickles down your leg while your hands shake uncontrollably.

Or, you could calmly fill the bag, including the stack which is attached to an explosive dye pack, slide it back to the scumbag, and wish him a nice day.

Of course, a third option would be to tell the unarmed punk to go pound sand, jump over the counter, and chase him a few blocks before running him to ground and sitting on him while waiting for the police to show up.

Most people probably wouldn't mind if you punched him in the face a time or two for good measure.

In old movies and heroic comic books, the third option would result in endless accolades from appreciative townfolk, a glowing write-up in the local paper, maybe even a parade to show appreciation for courage and bravery in protecting the money of little old ladies and other innocents.

For sure, your bank would give you a raise, maybe even a nice corner office with your name on the door, with the word "Hero" stenciled underneath.

Unless, of course, the bank happened to be the Key Bank in Seattle.

There, such heroes are rewarded by being fired.

According to a story in the Associated press, this exact scenario played out in Seattle with Jim Nicholson, a 30-year-old bank teller at a Key Bank branch.

Everyone knows that bank tellers today are told to be passive, to quickly hand over the money, and to hold the door for the thief on the way out.

Bank robbers certainly know this routine, which is why lazy thieves who don't want to work hard for the money will choose a nice easy bank to knock over.

Convenience stores can sometimes be a crap shoot, as a few clerks have been known to keep a loaded .38 under the counter.

But bank executives in nice cushy high-rises far above the risky front lines, and police administrators who haven't looked a real criminal in the eye since their last dinner at the country club with an oil industry executive, both encourage tellers to just be sheep, pass over the money, don't cause a fuss, and don't do anything that might upset the bank robber.

After all, who wants an emotional bank robber telling his therapist that his fragile little psyche has been damaged by a reluctant bank teller who wouldn't give him what he wanted.

Of course, most real cops would be rooting for the teller, citing the law of the street over an actuary's law of large numbers.

Nicholson ignored the company memo on mandatory institutional cowardice, and actually stood up to a cash bully.

Now he's on the unemployment line.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not exhorting people in the service industry to stand up to someone pointing a loaded bazooka in their face, or to challenge a van load of Patty Hearst wannabes armed with machine guns.

I rarely confuse heroism with gross stupidity.

But when we get to the point that we just give in to the bad guys without a peep, securely wrapped in the corporate mantra of "who cares, it's insured," we're actually enabling the criminals.

It seems that, as a nation, we no longer encourage heroism.

Maybe the bank executives are just trying to extend a professional courtesy to their money-stealing brethren.

After all, in this day and age the execs in suits on the sweet side of the bulletproof glass seem to get away with WAY more swag from bank customers than the losers on the other side with ski masks and misspelled holdup notes.

But that's just the way it is here in the 21st century, an era when our national anthem should end with the line "o'er the land of the free, and the home of the FDIC insured."