Heller and Shannon: Tangled webs woven

Ce’Diff started going into the lobby of her favorite fast-food restaurant last week after her primary credit card had been declined. It had been embarrassing to be in the drive-through line and pass the cashier card-after-card looking for one that still wasn’t maxed-out.

The yahoo in the truck behind her had even honked his horn at her. Bastard!

Now it was just easier to go into the restaurant and run cards till she found one that still had some room-to-run.

Unfortunately, it was getting more and more difficult to sign-up for new cards because she was getting fewer offerings in the mail and the hoped-for raise had not come when she expected it. The boss gave her some bullshit about inflation and all that.

To say Ce’Diff lived hand-to-mouth was an understatement. She had been applying for, and getting additional credit cards from when she had been in college. She would run them up to the max and then apply for another, paying just the minimums on her existing cards.

She put EVERYTHING on the cards. She set up automatic deposit on her paycheck to sprinkle the income into the accounts of the creditors who were hounding her the worst.

Since all of her income was going to credit cards, and since she was being denied new ones based on her credit score, she needed a way to increase her income.

Punching the buttons on the kiosk in the restaurant, she selected four Deweebi sausage-with-egg muffins. Then she selected double sausage...protein is good, right.

Her normal order was six Deweebi muffins but she had to economize. It wasn’t just the cost of the food. Her clothes were getting uncomfortably tight and she wasn’t in the position to buy a completely new wardrobe.

That made her more angry than anything else. Her position demanded that she look professional and clothes that were not flattering were definitely not “professional”.

Going to her table, she sipped sparingly at her orange-juice and removed the buns from the sandwiches. She scraped the melted cheese from the muffins and piled it on the sausage patties. Then, using a knife-and-spork, she daintily transferred the meat, cheese and eggs to her mouth. There was not enough food to satisfy her. She eyed the cold buns with the curdled cheese and butter but decided against them. Too many carbs.

Closing her eyes and leaning back, she had an inspiration. She had been following the student in Indonesia who wanted an internship in Michigan. By all accounts, her daddy was loaded.

Ce’Diff hated Anita at a visceral level. Ce’Diff had only the vaguest memories of her father. And based on the contradictory images in her head, she now assumed that her mother had lied to her and told her that the boyfriend du jour was “her father”. 

 

In fact, it would be safe to say that Ce'Diff hated nearly everybody. She hated those who were better-off than she was with a fiery hatred and she looked down upon those less fortunate than herself with total contempt.

Ce’Diff had no qualms about fleecing the well-heeled foreigner. And, given her connections, Ce’Diff was sure she could collect a handsome finder’s-fee if she kept the “tender vittles” safe until she was delivered her to some deep-pocketed client with an urge to scratch that particular itch.

Ce’Diff resolved to “get connected” to the foreign girl that was creating the buzz on PluggedIn. She would tell her that she could finish her degree on-line and she should not waste time in whatever backwater hellhole she now lived in. That would be one way to get the inside-track on getting close to her.

Smiling for the first time that day, Ce’Diff went back to the kiosk and ordered four more Deweebie-muffins (double sausage). She had reason to celebrate. The first thing she was going to do when she got to the office was to send a request to connect with that Anita chick.

***

The young man who entered the Credit Union had clearly enjoyed a liquid-lunch. His movements were not very steady and he spoke loudly.

He asked for Shannon by name.

When Shannon finished with her customer, the customer who was next in line motioned to the drunk that he could cut in line ahead of him. Apparently that customer had no wish to cross the drunk and wished him on his way as quickly as possible.

Shannon got a blast of beer-breath as the man introduced himself. “Hi, babe! My name is Randy and I heard you visit job sites and issue building permits” he said.

“Ummm...not quite, sir” Shannon said. “Are you a customer here?” she asked.

“Not yet. But I could be” Randy said, leering at her breasts.

“If you can just give me your name, I can check and see if you have an account here” Shannon said. “...but I could be…” might mean that he had a dormant account. She had to check.

She felt more than heard the teller next to her slip back into into the offices. She didn’t expect any problems but it was nice to know that her coworkers were escalating appropriately.

“Yeah, sweetheart. My name is Randy Rogers and I am a contractor. I do mostly interior work and I specialize in bedrooms” he said.

“I am sorry sir, I checked our database and we do not have a Randy or a Randell Rogers listed as a customer. I can hook you up with a customer service representative if you would like to fill out an application and open an account here” Shannon said. Shannon instantly regretted using the words "hook you up" based on the reaction in Mr Roger's face.

Shannon could here footsteps behind her. Looking at the reflections in the plate-glass partitions, she could see Fred had moved over to the opening that connected the teller’s work-space with the lobby where the customers were.

Brigid had moved back to her window and was making strained small-talk with her customer, the one who would have been Shannon's if the drunk had not been allowed to cut to the front of the line. Brigid’s left hand was not visible so Shannon assumed Brigid had her hand on the alarm button.

“I don’t wanna fill out no forms. I just want you to check out my job and gimme a permit” the man slurred.

“I am sorry sir, our Credit Union does not issue building permits” Shannon said.

“That ain’t what my cousin Vernon said. He seen ya at writin’ one up for his boss” Randy said.

“Sir, that is not something our Credit Union does. The county issues building permits” Shannon persisted. She had dealt with drunks before and the best thing to do was to stick to the simple facts and not argue with them.

“Are you calling my cousin Vernon a liar?” Randy challenged.

“No sir. But he might be mistaken” Shannon said.

The drunk started cursing. “Stupid bitch” and started flexing his muscles.

Fred spoke up from where he was standing, which was now on the customer side of the opening. “Sir, even if you were a customer we would not serve you because I just witnessed you being abusive to my teller.”

“You can walk out the door now or you can explain to the police why you did not leave when you were directed to do so” Fred said.

That is when Shannon noticed that Fred’s right hand was not visible.  That was not something she would have noticed before spending time with Heller at the gun range. "Hands kill. Watch the hands."

 

For that matter, the customer that Brigid had been chatting with had moved off to the side so he was not behind Randy and one of his hands was also not visible.

“Fuck you. Fuck you all. You are just trying to keep the little man down. Alls I wanted is to get what you were giving the big contractors…” as he slammed the glass door behind him.

Fred watched the video monitor to verify that he entered his truck (a battered pickup truck) and left the grounds before his right-hand became visible.

The other customer stuck around for another five minutes before he, too left.

Who said working at a Credit Union was boring?