"He didn't ask for any of those." Grace kept her voice low, conscious that a customer was waiting on the other side of the glass. "The basic account meets what he asked for."
"He doesn't have to ask." Bradley smiled without pleasure. "That's what good selling means."
"And if he says no?"
"Tell him the products are mandatory for his account tier." Bradley turned the printed sheet toward her, one finger resting on a highlighted target. "We are behind on daily attachments, and I am not spending another month explaining your performance to regional management."
"They aren't mandatory," Grace said. "We can't make optional products a condition of opening a regular checking account, and the overdraft decision has its own disclosure and consent requirements."
Bradley studied her for a moment. The silence was more frightening than if he had shouted, because she had seen what happened after these silences. Schedules changed, performance reviews appeared, and employees who challenged the numbers suddenly discovered they were no longer a good cultural fit. He leaned back in his chair and spoke in a voice designed to sound almost concerned.
"Do you like working here, Grace?" he asked. "Do you like having insurance? Do you like being able to take your mother to those appointments? Then stop making everything so difficult."
Grace looked at the sales sheet, then at the closed office door. She could have apologized, smiled, and walked back to Nathan with the same bundle she had been told to sell dozens of times. She could have explained the charges in a hurried voice and hoped he did not ask questions. The problem was that he already had asked questions, and every one of them deserved an honest answer.
"I'll explain every available product," she said. "He can choose what he wants."
"You will do your job," Bradley replied. "And you'll remember who signs your evaluation."
When Grace came back to the counter, Nathan noticed the color had drained from her face. She sat down carefully and positioned the application between them like a shield. He pretended not to notice the way her fingers hesitated above the keyboard. He had spent the morning watching a system, but he was beginning to understand the individual cost of refusing to serve it.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Fine," she said. "Just paperwork."
She brought up the add-on packages, explained their advertised benefits, and showed him their costs. Her voice tightened when she reached the total: roughly two hundred dollars a year for products he had never requested. Before he could answer, she slid the disclosure pages toward him and put a fingertip on the section identifying the services as optional.
"Do I need these?" Nathan asked. He kept the question quiet enough that Bradley, standing near the lobby, would have to come closer to hear it. "I'm just opening a simple account."
"Mr. Stone wants them included," Grace said. She swallowed, looked straight at Nathan, and added, "But that's not the same thing as you needing them. Please read everything carefully before you decide."
Nathan turned a page. One box was already selected in the demonstration view, though he had not consented to the product. He asked her whether this was how the branch normally processed the package, and she explained that the choice could and should be changed. The distinction was small on a screen, but not small to the person whose account would be charged year after year.