Eleven years had changed a great deal. Metropolitan Trust had grown into a regional banking group with forty-seven branches, more than twelve hundred employees, and a complicated corporate structure that included commercial lending, consumer services, and a community development division. Amelia remained chief executive and the controlling shareholder of its holding company, with sixty-seven percent of voting equity. An independent board chaired by Robert Sterling supervised governance, compensation, and the obligations that came with holding the public's deposits. What had once been a handful of rented offices was now a serious institution, subject to rules more demanding than Amelia's intentions.
She liked that last fact. Rules existed, at their best, to keep personal power from becoming the final answer. She had spent years arguing that customers should never have to know an owner, a politician, or a regional vice president to receive fair service. Sometimes she wondered whether the scale of the bank had made that principle more difficult to defend. On Tuesday afternoon, she was about to learn how far the distance had widened between the language on the wall and the conduct on the floor.
She approached the information desk and waited while a teller finished helping an elderly customer. A young employee glanced up, smiled professionally, and began to ask what she needed. Before Amelia could answer, Marcus Webb came out of the adjoining manager's office, speaking sharply into a headset. He stopped when he saw her standing near the desk with her briefcase and a folded brochure in her hand. He looked from her face to the customer service area, then at the guard posted near the doors. His expression changed in a way Amelia knew too well.
"Can I help you?" he asked. The words were technically polite, but he delivered them with the impatience of someone who expected an explanation for a breach of procedure. Amelia answered that she wanted information about small-business accounts and hoped to speak with the person responsible for the program. Webb looked at the brochure she had picked up, then at her bag. "We handle serious accounts here," he said. "Not walk-in complaints about other banks or requests for special favors."
"I haven't made a complaint," Amelia replied. "And I haven't asked for a favor." She kept her voice low, aware that nearby customers were beginning to listen. "I asked where I could obtain information about business services." Webb gave a small laugh and pointed toward a row of chairs near the entrance. "You can take a seat if you're willing to wait like everyone else," he said, though no one had directed her to those chairs and no queue existed for the conversation he was refusing to have.
Amelia looked at the chairs. "Is there someone available now?" she asked. "The customer service representative was about to assist me." Webb's mouth tightened.