Employee of the Year

Chapter 23 - The Test Drive

                Martinez held her face in her hands and watched me walk out of the station. If I had the luxury of telling her the truth, I would tell her the photo of the girl was probably the most important clue she’d uncovered.

                I’d heard about her a long time ago. When Gina first got her promotion to the CEO’s office, she told me about the photo. But it wasn’t until early April, about a month after the end of the identity theft project, that I realized the true significance of the blonde girl with the emerald eyes and the mole on her cheek.

After the arrest of the Eastern European mobsters at LAX, my work life at Passion stabilized for a while. Roland and I were put back in our old roles, sitting in our cubicles making calls on overdue balances. We would get no more on-the-job field trips exposing us to danger. We would be working the phones full time.

“Peter O’Connor?” I asked once the man picked up. I double-checked the cardholder information on the screen. Peter O’Connor. Twenty-one years old. Morristown, Pennsylvania. He had a balance of $3,000 that was five months past due.

“This is his father,” the man answered in a grouchy voice. “What do you want?”

“Good afternoon, sir. I am calling on behalf of Passion Financial regarding your son’s credit card account.”

“So you’re the ones who gave my son the credit card. Do you have any idea the damage you’ve caused? You ruined my son’s life.”

“Excuse me?”

“He picked up the card when he was away at school. I can’t believe they allow your firm to set up booths on college campuses and make promotional offers directly to students. You shouldn’t be allowed to give these kids credit cards. It’s like giving them drugs. That’s what credit is, it’s a drug.”

“Sir, I can assure you our bank follows the law.”

“I don’t care about the law. I am talking about what’s right.”

“Listen, Mr. O’Connor. I am not sure what happened, but I am sorry you’re not happy that your son became a customer. Credit cards aren’t for everyone, especially at a young age. If we can just work something out with this balance, we can make sure this doesn’t affect his credit rating. I am sure you don’t want that clouding his future.”

“His future? Let me tell you about his future. My son is a drug addict. He used that credit card to get hooked on cocaine and drop out of college. I spent a fortune sending him to one of the best schools in the state. Now I’m paying a second mortgage to put him through treatment for substance abuse. All thanks to you guys. I worked my whole life to give my son the opportunities that I never had. To make sure he got a quality education. To make sure that he would be a somebody and not a nobody. That’s all ruined. And it’s all thanks to your bank, Passion Financial, giving your fucking credit cards to children who aren’t ready for the responsibility.”

“I’m sorry about your son, sir. I am sure he’ll recover. I am sure he’ll get a second chance.”

“It doesn’t matter if he gets a second chance. He’ll never be the same. The damage is done.”

The line went dead. I made a note in the cardholder record that the customer was dependent on his father and suggested the balance was probably uncollectable. The father didn’t seem concerned with his son’s credit rating. The damage was done. There was no need to call back. Mr. O’Connor was never going to pay back the balance that destroyed his son’s life.

Of course it wasn’t fair for him to blame his son’s drug problems on a credit card. His son was legally an adult when he signed up for a credit card. Nobody from our bank told him to use it for a cash advance on cocaine. Maybe Mr. O’Connor should have taught his son to use better judgment.