Elena Park brought the complaint register to the screen. A table of dates appeared beside a column labeled Resolution, and every entry carried the same short phrase: resolved at branch level. There were forty-two complaints since January, each closed by Sloan on the day it arrived. None appeared in the annual presentation the board had just been shown, because Main Street counted closed complaints as non-incidents rather than reviewing their substance.
“Complaints are routine,” Sloan said. “People are dissatisfied with ordinary banking decisions all the time.” Elena did not argue with the general statement. She displayed a second table listing the location where each disputed interaction had occurred. Forty-two entries pointed to the same service station. “Then please explain why every one of these complaints originated at the side window,” she said.
Sloan shifted in her chair. “What side window?” she asked.
A director at the far end of the table looked up sharply. She had personally visited the branch the previous year and remembered a narrow counter near the corridor. “The one beside the hallway,” she said. “I passed it when I was there for the customer appreciation event.” Sloan glanced toward Thornton, then replied that the window was simply a convenient place for transactions requiring additional review. Elena displayed photographs of the branch and the internal training note prepared by Sloan, complete with the phrase “nonpriority walk-ins.”
“The policy doesn't permit service tiers based on whether an employee likes a customer's appearance,” Elena said. “And customers assigned to a separate station remain entitled to the same verification, lending review, and complaint protections.” She pointed to one record in which a customer's question about a loan denial had been recategorized as “customer confused about required documentation” within two minutes. The actual customer statement, preserved in the earlier version, described never being given an application to complete. The discrepancy was not something that could be explained by a busy afternoon.
Catherine turned to Hannah. “Ms. Price, would you come forward?”
Hannah rose from her chair along the wall and walked to the end of the table with her notebook held close to her chest. She looked at Isaiah, who gave a small nod, then at Sloan, whose expression had hardened into the stare Hannah knew from the break room. Catherine asked Hannah to explain her duties and to describe the Tuesday transaction in her own words. Hannah began with the deposit tray, the check number, and the large-deposit verification procedure she had been trained to follow.
“I offered to call the issuing number,” she said. “Ms. Mercer told me to stay at my window. I checked what I could see before she took the paper, and there was nothing on it that justified calling it fake.” Her voice trembled on the final word, but she continued. “When she tore it, I wrote down the number because I thought the customer would need a way to replace it. After he left, I went outside to give it to him and apologize.”
Sloan leaned forward. “Hannah, you are finished at this bank,” she snapped. “You were already on probation for insubordination, and now you're giving a false account in front of the directors.”