Zero Stars But Five Star Revenge Chapter 2

The moment I walked back into the bank, the atmosphere shifted.

"Cole is looking for you," a colleague muttered.

Then, without asking, he dumped a stack of manila folders on my desk. The pile slid, nearly knocking over my coffee mug.

"Call these people when you get a sec," he commanded, not even looking at me.

I put a hand on the files. "Stop. This isn't my caseload. I've already finished my calls."

He paused, looking at me like my head had spun around.

"These are bank clients, Miles. Why are you acting brand new?"

He adopted that patronizing tone again. "You do the cold calls every year. It's almost fiscal year-end. Chop chop."

My voice dropped an octave. Hard. Cold.

"No. I manage my clients. These? These aren't mine."

He let out a sharp laugh. "Yours? Ours? It's all the same pot, buddy. Just make the calls. It's grunt work. What else are you good for?"

I stood up.

"What am I good for? I closed twenty percent of this branch's volume this year. What did you do?"

I pointed a finger at him. "You, Todd? Did you even hit two million? Where do you get the nerve?"

He wasn't used to Miles the Doormat fighting back. His face flushed a blotchy red.

His voice cracked, spiraling into a screech.

"Miles! Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My numbers are none of your business!"

"Yeah, you hit twenty percent. So what? You're a Zero-Star officer!"

"I missed my quota, and guess what? I'm still Three Stars! You can't compare yourself to me!"

"I can order you around because you are a temp! You don't even technically work here!"

He was right.

I carried the branch, and I was a zero.

He barely showed up, and he was a solid three.

By metrics alone, I should have been Five Stars since year two.

But my caste determined my worth.

The shouting match drew a crowd. I could hear the whispers circling like vultures.

"What's up with Miles? Why is he so aggressive today?"

"Probably the ratings again. It's hilarious he thinks he's one of us. Letting him participate in the ceremony was a charity case."

"It's embarrassing, honestly. Someone tell Cole to just ban him from the meetings."

The anger in my chest was a physical weight.

I shoved the stack of files back across the desk. They spilled onto the floor.

"Call them yourself. If you dump your trash on my desk again, I'm shredding it."

Todd glared at me, venom in his eyes. "You're dead, Miles. Watch."

Five minutes later, my phone rang. Manager Cole.

Perfect. I wanted to tell her I was done anyway.

As soon as I walked into her office, she started.

"Miles! I hear you're causing a scene on the floor."

Causing a scene? I had been the silent workhorse for seven years. I raise my voice once, and I'm the problem.

She tapped her acrylic nails on the mahogany desk.

"I know, I know. You're upset about the star rating. It's just policy, Miles. It's not personal. We fought to even get you listed on the sheet. That's recognition!"

"Besides," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "if you keep your head down and hit the numbers, I'm going to bat for you. I promise."

"Clear this list of clients this month, and I will personally go to Corporate and demand they convert you. We'll get that contract signed."

She slid a list across the desk. Then, she smiled.

It was the same smile I’d seen for seven years. Sugary, rehearsed, and completely hollow.

From the first time I complained about my pay, this was the face that fed me lies.

Then, she reached under her desk and pulled out a gift basket.

"Todd told me you were feeling left out. That was an oversight on his part. Of course you're part of the team!"

"Finish the year strong! The bank takes care of its own."

I looked at the plastic-wrapped ham and the cheap bottle of Merlot. I looked at the layers of foundation settling into the lines of her insincere smile.

I decided right then not to tell her I had resigned.

It wasn't my job to give them a heads-up.

They wanted to feed me empty promises?

Fine. I'd feed them a nasty surprise.