FIRE THEM #A: OWEN USORO

Owen Usoro

Today was like every other day for Owen. His life was a constant loop of events, even during the holidays nothing changed. For him, it was wake up by 5 am, jump out of bed, then grope in the dark until he found his bathroom. Next he would take a cold shower no matter the season of the year, dress up in the suit he already prepared the previous day, then leave the apartment before 6:10 am. He lived kilometers away from the bank, so he had to commute. By 6:50 am his train would arrive at the station, then from there he would buy fresh donuts and a cup of cheap instant coffee from the train lady, before walking to work through the crowd of Metropolis. By 7:10 am he would arrive at the bank gate, and walk into the banking hall, where he had to work for his livelihood. To him, this job, no matter how sad it was, was his life. He had gone through various dreadful events since he stepped into adulthood, most of which his wayward life had caused directly, others a repercussion years later. Now this job was a means of stability, and he was going to do his best to keep it. Not even the annoying woman who oozed of beer and cigarette, shouting her rights as a customer, could destroy this plan, for the plan was his means of survival.

"I'm sorry, Madam, but the bank can no longer grant a loan for this account." Owen said calmly. He had trained himself for this job. Without this, he would be living under the bridge, not in a one-bedroom apartment, located in a cramped street downtown, filled with musky thick air and terribly drunk neighbors.

"What do you mean by that? You cannot say that to me, Mr., I am your customer." The irate lady shouted, intentionally drawing attention to herself, and Owen, knowing the trick sighed. He had witnessed this before, experienced the drama countless times, the first time was scary but after seven years of working here he had learnt and grown.

Raising his voice equally for the crowd in the banking hall to hear while making sure he didn't sound angry, he replied.

"Madam, please calm down. All I'm saying is that this account is already in debt of twenty-four thousand eight hundred dollars, which is very close to the limit of your account type." The woman began to speak, but Owen cut her off without giving her another chance.

"Madam, you have a Basic account with a loan limit of twenty-five thousand, you are just two hundred dollars short from reaching your maximum loan amount, Madam this means you can only get a loan of 200 dollars or fewer since you have to pay vat. However, you are insisting a loan of five thousand dollars…" He stopped when the crowd in the banking hall burst into laughter, not directed to him, but the woman in front of his desk. It was better to disgrace them and be seen as innocent than lose his job. He continued, this time with a much lower voice since the customers who paid attention to them had lost their need to listen to the now embarrassed woman.

"Five thousand dollar loan is reserved for large businesses only even SME's cannot access it. It's better you pay back your debts then collect another loan within your limit if you want to avoid ending up behind bars." Owen rested on his cushion and waited for her decision. He looked at the long line of customers that waited to be buzzed forward, he needed to cut down the crowd, he was already behind in is turn around time and the lady was not helping, he had to get rid of her quickly.

"Mr Owen, what if I open another account?" The woman asked. Owen almost laughed, but he recalled his job description entailed being sympathetic, kind, and considerate and his lips involuntarily twitched as he suppressed himself. This woman was incredibly desperate.

"Madam that would be ruled as fraud, and it could lead you to serious problems with the authorities. Even if you open an account with another bank, the consequences would still not change. It is better for you to pay back what you owe, then..."

"But I need the money." The woman screamed, drawing the attention she wanted back to her, but the gazes fixated on her was not one of sympathy or empathy, rather it was annoyance and anger.

"Madam. The bank cannot help you." Both the bank and him, Owen thought. He didn't pity her condition. He had been in it before. Being drunk before the sun warmed the sky, destroying his views with harsh chemicals that could wash away his inferiority, before the birds sang their first song, and being that way for the rest of the day, week, month, year, decade. He had a thing for being in cycles, but after his withdrawal, and therapy he was here. This cycle was better than the first one during the earlier days of his life.

"Excuse me Madam." A lady leaned down behind Owen's chair. He knew who she was and once she took charge the problem whatever it was, was always removed.

"Yes who are you. I want to speak to the manager, not you." The woman shouted and the one behind Owen smiled so brightly.

"Of course, Madam, that's why I brought her to you. I'm Claire, the Manager, Madam." Claire said and stood upright.

"Good, I want..." the customer began but Claire cut her off instantly.

"What you want, Madam, is to silently leave the bank, because you are holding our line, and business, and causing both nuisance, and discomfort to the customers, Madam. If you look around you will see you are really a pain and everyone would prefer you left, and it is my job to please all my customers not just one. Do you understand me, Madam."

"Are you… are you asking me to leave, a customer?" The woman was shocked, her eyes almost turned into her head.

"I'm asking you to consider others, and it is better to leave quietly or do you prefer being dragged out by the security officers? Mr. Owen here has calmly explained everything you need to do, hence, Madam, our job is done. It's better you handle things properly. Don't you think so?" Claire finished with another of her million dollar smile and the woman froze.

The next time she spoke, which was not up to a minute later, she was carrying her bag and rising from the chair.

"HHB has not seen the last of me. I know my rights." She screamed and flounced out of the hall.

"Wow that is over. I almost died in my chair back there." Claire said while tapping Owen's shoulder, and Owen smiled.

"Next customer, please. Good luck, this one looks rich." Claire said and walked back to her desk.

Owen sighed and waited for the man to walk forward. Something about him oozed wealth, whatever he did, wherever he worked at, or whoever he worked for, was paying him handsomely. Those kinds of customers were either extremely kind and patient, or incredibly impatient and a pain in the ass that required absolute submission.

"Good afternoon Sir. Welcome to Heritage High Bank. How may I be of service to you?" He gave his signature greeting as was requested by the company.

"I want to speak to your director, your manager…" Oh, he was the pain in the ass kind, Owen thought,

"...and a Mr. Usoro. I heard he is an excellent account manager. I want all these people this instant. Get on with it, boy." The man finished, leaving Owen aghast.

The man carried authority, he didn't sound like someone working for anybody, he was his own boss. But how did this mysterious rich man know his name. The name on his tag was only Owen. Owen could swear on his half dead liver that he had never met the man in his life.

"Right this way Sir, I'm Claire, the Manager." Claire said from her desk as she rose, and the man nodded and walked to the direction she had gestured.

"Mr. Owen Usoro. Please come, the customer asked for you." Claire instructed and walked to the customer with a shining smile that threatened to blind.

"Oh he is the Mr. Usoro?" The man said and turned to Owen. Sizing him like he was a bathrobe, that appalled his taste.

"Yes sir. Please this way. I have emailed the Director, he will be here with us within five minutes."

"I don't like to be kept waiting." The man warned and followed Claire's direction.

"Certainly, Sir. You would not. Please watch your step." She said to the man, then turned to Owen, who was now jogging towards them.

"I want to open a VIP account." The man said as he walked up the stairs.

"That would be our black diamond account." Claire said.

"I don't care what it's called. I want it to be the best service you have and can offer, and I want the boy as my account officer. I will not speak more about this until the Director is in front of me."

"Yes Sir. I understand." Claire replied.

"It's good you do. The Director has only three minute left and as I have said earlier, I do not like to be kept waiting."

"He will be here before then. You have my word, Sir. Please through here." Claire said and Owen ran and opened the door to the VIP lounge.

"I will hold you for it, and you can call me Matthew." That was the first time the man used another expression apart from a frown. He smiled like an angel. A stinking rich one, and Claire smiled back before taking her seat next to the man's, while Owen stood like a bell boy waiting for his next command.