After the interruption due to the pandemic life was returning to pre epidemic normalcy. Masks were no longer worn by most people, sporting event and concert attendances were at capacity and the majority of companies had returned to in office workers. At least the employees of Riven Banking Co. were now all back at their desks after an almost two year remote operating mode and generating the myriad financial transactions each day that helped oil the wheels of industry.
The city in which the bank was headquartered is unimportant. Just another of the world's metropolises. So, too, is the building in which the bank leased its space; just another soaring tower of tens of floors with thousands of drones in a metal and glass hive. We are only interested in the story of two of the bank's employees, a Vice President named Carl Hayes and a clerk named Eve Trayson.
Carl had started with Riven just out of college and now, after more than twenty years he had risen to be a Vice President in charge of a unit comprised of 30 or so workers. Like most hierarchies his unit consisted of a few direct reports, their team leaders and the teams themselves. Carl had little to do with the worker bees and most of his time was taken up with meetings. Meetings with his direct reports, meetings with the senior executives he reported to, occasional meetings with clients and the rare Board Meeting from time to time.
Now well into his 40's Carl lived alone in a loft in a former mill building, took trips to go fishing several times a year and had recently acquired a new (to him) sports car that he had yearned for since he was a teen. Carl had never married, though he had had two relationships that each had lasted more than 5 years. While it is unlikely that anyone would describe him as a ladies man he was able to find a woman to spend time with whenever he felt the need.
Eve was younger, just in her 30's. She lived at home with her parents, though they regularly encouraged her to move out on her own. She rarely dated and her life revolved around her job. As a clerk on one of the teams in Carl's group her daily assignments consisted of creating and executing transfers of sums of money for the Bank's clients. Her cube was more or less tucked in a corner of the floor, coincidentally just past the door to Carl's office.
People rarely took note of Eve and if they did it was to comment on her overall drabness. She had mousey brown hair and stood slumped or stoop shouldered. The colors of her clothing tended to beiges and browns which added to her drabness. Eve spoke quietly, when she spoke at all and interacted with her coworkers minimally. She had been at Riven for 4 years and received passing reviews each year that entitled her to an average raise in pay but not much else.
It's likely that until the fateful day, Carl may not have even known Eve's name. It's doubtful he had ever spoken more than a few words to her, perhaps a 'hello' or 'good night' in the elevator. Based on the women that Carl favored to spend his time with it's very likely that Eve did not even register on his radar.
Over time Carl had begun to identify a desire in himself that took time to define. At first it was just an awareness that something was lacking in his life. In time he came to understand that there was a missing piece in his relationships. As yet he could not put his finger on what was missing but his most recent relationships had been shorter than those in the past. He rejected each woman because of some undefined deficiency.
On a grey Friday morning before a holiday long weekend that seemed a perfect fit to Eve's blandness she arrived at work, early as usual, sat at her desk and fired up her computer. In the bluish glow of the two screens on her desk she began the login process that afforded her access to the systems necessary to perform her duties, just as she had for oh so many days before.
Throughout the morning and afternoon she created and executed the movements of large sums of money as requested by clients, no different than she had done for years. She stopped only briefly to eat her lunch in the break room, sitting alone eating soup she brought from home. At the end of the day, well after most of the others in the department had left, she closed out her last transaction, logged out and shut down her computer to head home. Her weekend plans centered on reading books and watching TV.
On Tuesday after the holiday Carl breezed into the office, as usual after everyone else had arrived. There was an undercurrent of something different he could feel but not name as he strode to his office. Barely had he taken off his jacket than Janet and Bob were in his office. Janet was wringing her hands and Bob was hemming and hawing trying to speak.
"Well, what's going on?" Carl asked.
"Mind if I shut the door?" Bob said in response as he performed the action without waiting for a reply.
Carl sat behind his desk. "Uh oh, I don't like the look of this. What is it?"
"Well, uh, the thing is, uh, um...." Bob stammered.
"Out with it," Carl demanded, "What's going on?"
Janet took a step forward. "We've got a significant problem. A transaction got balled up on Friday and the client is going to be pretty steamed when they find out," she explained.
"Who's the client?"
"Brookhouse."
"Crap" Carl spat. Brookhouse was one to the Bank's largest clients. "What happened?"
Bob jumped in. "The transaction was reversed. Instead of sending the money to Brookhouse we took the money from Brookhouse."
"How much?"
Janet provided the multi million dollar amount.
"This'll cause a shit storm," Carl moaned. "Who screwed up?"
"Eve Trayson," Janet replied.
"Who the fuck is that?"
"The woman who sits there, just outside your office," Janet answered, pointing in the direction of Eve's cube.
"Get me her file. Has the mistake been rectified?"
Bob, ever the obsequious suck up spoke over Janet and said, "In process now, Carl."
"Not a word about this to anyone, and I mean anyone. Get me her file and get this fixed immediately. Let me know as soon as it is. Now get out, I have some unpleasant calls to make."
Despite his admonition for secrecy, like most corporate environments, word of the screw up had already spread among the rank and file in the department.
Janet and Bob scurried away, shutting the door behind them. Carl was not stupid, he hadn't risen to his position by being dumb. He immediately called the Senior Vice President he reported to and asked to see him. He was granted an audience right away so he headed for the elevator to go up one floor. On his way he looked over at Eve Trayson's cube. Her saw a small, brown haired form hunched over her key board.
Carl received a fairly vehement tongue lashing in his boss's office one floor above and returned to his office with steam coming out of his ears. Someone was going to have to bear the brunt of his anger and he knew who it would be. As he made his way back to his office Janet met him and handed him Eve's file. Carl snatched it quickly from her hand, stomped to his office and shut the door a little more firmly than usual.
He opened the file and read her reviews. Unremarkable in every way. Performance, average; test scores, average; passed over for promotion twice due to better candidates being available even though she had been with the Bank longer. His phone buzzed. Janet was on the line to tell him the mistake had been rectified and the other party had no problem back dating the transaction so that it would appear as if it had never happened.
Exhaling deeply in relief Carl quickly emailed his boss with the news and then called the client to report on the error and resolution. The individual he spoke with took the news without reaction and thanked him for being forthcoming. Carl did not believe that this conversation was the end of the story and was concerned that a major shitstorm might still result if calls were made from a senior level at the client to executives at the Bank.
