My handbag is on the chair next to me. It’s zipped up, except for a little yellow bit of paper which sticks out of the far end. That yellow corner is the tip of a paper iceberg. Everything below it is much bigger, and much worse than you’d think. It’s an eviction notice. I wasn’t technically supposed to take it off my front door, but it’s super embarrassing to be kicked out of the only place you have to call home and frankly, my neighbors judge me enough already.
An efficient man with a complete dearth of facial expressions comes bustling into the room. He’s wearing a brown suit, which makes him stand out. Brown’s not really a very popular color for professionals at the moment. They’re more into playing fifty shades of charcoal gray.
“Hello, Ms…”
“Kristine Morgan,” I say, extending my hand. “I’m here for a small loan of three hundred dollars to tide me over until this check clears, because my landlord wants to be paid.” I hand him the folded piece of paper I’ve been clenching in my hand since I got it. “The check is for ten thousand, so I’ll completely be set.”
He takes the check from me and inspects it with what I can only describe as a smug smirk. “We can’t accept this.”
“Why not?”
“Because this check has been endorsed by a prince from Nigeria. You’ve been scammed, I’m afraid.”
I kind of knew I’d been scammed. I knew even before I was scammed that I was going to be scammed. I’m not stupid. I’m not desperate. Well, maybe I’m desperate. But mostly, I’m lonely. I find it hard to talk to men, so when Prince Chad messaged me and asked me what was ‘sup, I was happy to talk, just to have someone to talk to. Chad has heard every childhood story I have, and some that I just made up. If you think that’s sad, there are thousands of people who talk to computer programs across the world every day. At least my scammer was someone real, even if he was a complete liar.
I knew this was a long shot. But there was a small chance the check was legit. A really tiny real chance. Or maybe, just maybe, maybe I was trying to rob the fucking bank just now for three hundred dollars using fraud. Maybe that's what’s happening. Either I’m a complete fool, or I’m an immoral scammer. Either way, you can find something to love, right? The answer to that question so far has been no, apparently.
Anyway, I am about to lose my plausible deniability if I push this any further.
“I’ve been scammed?” I gasp a little and clutch the area where my pearls would be if I had pearls. Instead, there’s a half eaten candy necklace which to be honest, I forgot I was wearing. Now I want to eat some, but I’ll look stupid if I do. Story of my life.
“This is quite a common scam, actually. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it. It’s basically a meme at this point. A man makes contact with a lonely, desperate woman, and gives her enough attention to feel special. At that point, he tells her that he is stuck in a foreign country and has the woman cash an international check. Now, used to be, banks would honor those checks even though they would take a week to fully clear. Then, by the time the funds had bounced, we’d already have paid out in cash. We don’t do that anymore. Protects our customers and our own interests.”
“Wow.”
My exclamation is more about the fact he just called me desperate to my face, as if that’s something you can say to a customer when you work for a bank and you have a mustard stain on your shirt that would make you look like a truck driver if you weren’t a weedy little fuck. Unlike the alleged professional, I don’t say any of that out loud.
He sits down behind his desk and starts typing aggressively. The keys click and clack and set me on edge even more than I already was. He’s just outright ignoring me now. Should I leave? I turn to go, but he calls out.
“One moment.”
“Am I waiting for something?” Hope rises in me. Maybe they’ll help. “I really just need a three hundred dollar overdraft to tide me over. This bank made billions of dollars in the last quarter alone, so…”
He hits the return key with a far too satisfied look and returns his milky gaze to me.
“I’m sorry, but we're unable to offer you an advance today. I’ve taken the liberty of closing out your account.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“No, but a review of your circumstances indicates that your account does not comply with our conditions.”
“You mean there's not enough money in it.”