Leaving the bank, the envelope still unopened in my hand, I stepped out into the chilly October air. My mind buzzed with questions and theories, none of which settled comfortably. As I walked down the street, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for customer service, hoping to get some clarity. “Thank you for calling, how can I assist you today?” the voice on the other end was bright and automated. After navigating through a labyrinth of options, I finally reached a human operator. “Yes, I need to inquire about a flag on my account,” I stated, trying to maintain a steady tone. The operator, a woman named Lisa according to her introduction, asked for my account number and details. As I read them out, I could hear her typing away, the sound mingling with the ambient noise of the city around me. “I see there have been several transactions flagged for review,” Lisa said, her voice more empathetic than James’. “We’re working to resolve this as quickly as possible.”
