Marta stared at the screen. She would have to file a false adjustment report later. She would probably get a warning. But as she looked at the blinking cursor, she realized something.
And her answer was $200. A lie. A gift. The only thing she had left to spend. The next morning, her supervisor called her into the glass office. "Marta. We pulled the call. The old man's card had $4.62."
Marta adjusted her headset, the cheap plastic pinching her ear. The fluorescent lights of the call center hummed a tired lullaby. She’d been doing this for three years: "Prepaid Cards Enquiry," her designated queue. prepaid cards enquiry
"Certainly. Can I have the 16-digit card number, please?"
Then, a crinkle. "Ah," the old man whispered. "Here it is. OmniCash. Red and gold." Marta stared at the screen
Marta walked back to her desk, the fluorescent lights suddenly not so dim. The next call flashed: "Prepaid Cards Enquiry."
"You must have had a bonus loyalty credit," Marta lied smoothly. "Promotion from last year. It's still active. Two hundred even." But as she looked at the blinking cursor,
She hadn't done a "prepaid cards enquiry" today.