“It’s been two hours.”
“Ms. Stratton is busy.”
“I can see that.”
Brittany frowned.
“Then I’m not sure what else you want me to say.”
“I’d like you to ask whether she intends to keep the appointment.”
“She knows you’re here.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Her voice cooled.
“She’ll be with you when it’s your turn.”
Walter looked around the lobby.
“My turn was ten o’clock.”
Brittany’s expression changed.
Slight irritation became open impatience.
“Sir, appointments do not guarantee exact service times.”
Walter nodded.
“Fair enough.”
She seemed relieved.
Then he continued.
“But I’ve watched at least four people arrive after me and go back before me.”
“I don’t manage their appointments.”
“You manage this desk.”
Her face flushed.
“I do not appreciate your tone.”
Walter nearly laughed.
His tone had barely changed.
“I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“I have not lied to you.”
“You told me Ms. Stratton was with another client when I saw the last one leave.”
“There are internal matters you are not aware of.”
“Then say she’s handling internal matters.”
Brittany lowered her voice.
“Maybe if you sat down instead of challenging staff, things would move faster.”
That was the sentence.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But Walter heard exactly what lived inside it.
Compliance as a condition of service.
Know your place and perhaps the system will eventually reward you.
He looked at his watch.
12:03.
Then returned to his chair one last time.
For twelve minutes.
At 12:15, the frosted doors opened to admit a bank employee carrying two coffees.
Walter saw Elaine’s office through the gap.
She sat behind her desk.
Alone.
Phone in one hand.
Typing with the other.
No client.
No meeting.
No emergency.
Something settled inside him.
Not anger exactly.
Decision.
Walter stood.
Picked up the briefcase.
Placed his hat on his head.
Then walked toward the frosted doors.
Brittany looked up.
“Sir?”
Walter kept walking.
“Sir, you can’t go back there.”
He pushed the door open.
The corridor beyond was quieter than the lobby.
Carpet instead of marble.
Framed photographs of local businesses along the walls.
Private offices on both sides.
Walter read nameplates as he walked.
Commercial lending.
Private banking.
Branch operations.
Then:
ELAINE STRATTON
BRANCH MANAGER.
Her door was open.
Walter knocked once on the frame.
Elaine looked up.
Shock.
Then annoyance.
“Mr. Jennings.”
“Ms. Stratton.”
“You cannot simply walk into my office.”
“I tried waiting.”
“You need to return to the lobby.”
“I’ve been in your lobby for two hours and twenty-five minutes.”
Elaine’s jaw tightened.
“I told reception I would call you when I was ready.”
“I was ready at ten.”
“That is not how this works.”
Walter put the briefcase on the chair beside him but did not sit.
“I drove seventy miles for an appointment you gave me.”
“I did not personally schedule it.”
“Your name is on the confirmation.”
“That does not mean I control every delay.”
Walter nodded.