The Banker

Jason stared at the powerpoint slide on the screen. It was a timeline of the new ‘plan’ the company was going to be following. The plan was an aggressive one. The kind his colleagues liked to call pre-actionary. It was intended to beat the market, and in turn to move the market in a direction financially beneficial to the company.

It was laid out in glorious detail on a 120 inch lcd tv that had recently been installed in the boardroom on the 73rd floor of the companies office building. Jason wondered about the monster screen. How much did it cost?

The meeting was the final step before the plan went into action. Though the plan had been in the works for some time, this was the first time Jason had found to offer any input. Having just been promoted to a junior vp position he was getting his first taste of the executive air of the 73rd. And he’d decided he didn’t like the smell of it.

Working his way up the corporate ladder over the years Jason had learned to swallow his doubts and uncertainties about the moral ambiguities of his job. It was usually easy. Focus on the numbers, ignore the names... it was just paperwork. Just pretend like there weren’t real people on the other end. Occasionally it was harder, sometimes you found out more about the people you were managing than you cared to know. Most of the time that happened those people were easy to disregard. Some middle aged yuppie over leveraged buying a third home in hopes of flipping it fast and making a profit when the market turned the wrong way, or some scammer who lied about their income to get more credit extended than they could ever repay. No one that he would lose sleep over.

But with his recent promotion Jason was tasked with the job of checking every potential public relation fallout from ‘the plan’. And that meant he had to go over every account it touched with a fine tooth comb. And he had to learn the names and the conditions of everyone involved.

What he found had made him lose sleep.

When Todd, the fast talking pitch man from the team that had dreamed up the term pre-actionary paused for breath Jason decided it was time to speak up.

“I have some reservations.” He started. Looking around the room. He waited a moment then continued.

“I’ve been going over the accounts that fall under the plan, and several of them seem like problems. For instance, take Mrs. Ramos. age 97, widow’d and on a fixed social security income.  If we move forward the local bank that holds her mortgage will be forced to repossess. And the resulting press...”

Todd smiled and cut him off. “Will be lost in the daily new cycle. There’s so many people losing their home these days a few more won’t make a bit of difference. But due to the way package 47 is structured we can’t make exceptions, if we extend leniency on Mrs. Ramos’s case, then we would be forced to do the same on over a thousand others. Do you have anything bigger than a few repossessions?”

Michael who sat next to Jason leaned over and whispered to him. “You’re dealing with the big picture now, you can’t be worried about the tiny details.”

Todd continued. “But as Jason pointed out, there will be some amount of minor rumbling when we do this. And so in order to show the investors that we are clear on our course of action, we want this board to be unanimous in approving the plan.”

Todd faulted and paused as Jason stood up.

“Jason, did you have something else?”

Jason didn’t say anything. He looked around the room slowly, trying to see into the thoughts of his peers, and failed to understand any of what he saw.

“Excuse me.” He muttered, then walked out.


Mrs. Roma was curious, she didn't get much mail, and a letter without a return address was a delightful and rare mystery.

She carefully slit the envelope and plucked the contents with great care. But her hands weren't as steady as they used to be, and as she lifted the letter from within, something fluttered out, and fell to the floor.

She glanced down but it had fallen beneath her chair. Looking back to the letter she unfolded it and began to read.

"Dear Mrs. Romas, You don't know me. And I don't know you except in the most vague of senses. And while our paths have not crossed directly, I find I can not help but think of you. You and many others like you whom I have hurt. I never set out to do so, but I can no longer deny my peccadilloes, lest they grow so numerous as to drown me.

In the next few days, you will receive a phone call, or a certified letter, depending on how your local bank operates. And when you do you will be informed that your home is being repossessed.  It's naught to do with you directly, but merely a cold execution of a financial system that doesn't see you as worthy of consideration.

It is a system I can no longer be a part of. Though it does little to help those I might have hurt in the past, I feel I must do what I can now. Enclosed you will find a cashiers check for the full remainder of your mortgage.

God bless, and please forgive me.

- the Banker"


When Jason sealed the letter and slipped it into the mail slot on Mrs. Ramos's house, he knew the signature was a lie. He would never be a banker again.

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