Free Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) by Patrick Sanchez Page B

a smart aleck.
    Gina ignored his question. “Since you’re running a little late, Kelly’s running the drive-thru for you. Why don’t you just set up in her station and wait on lobby customers today.”
    “I hate doing the lobby. I’ll just switch with Kelly.”
    “I think you should do the lobby today to avoid confusion, Bob.”
    “It’ll just take a second for us to switch.”
    Gina knew her lack of firmness was one of the major reasons she was still an assistant manager—aside from being late all the time, having virtually no motivation, and not asking for identification from a woman dressed like a nun, who ended up scamming the bank for over ten thousand dollars. She needed to be firm with Bob.
    “Just do the lobby, Bob. End of discussion.”
    Bob looked at her with a disgruntled and somewhat confused expression. She’d always backed down before. Figuring she must have gotten laid over the weekend, he nodded his head and left the kitchen. Gina was as amazed as Bob. She only wished that Linda had been there to see her hold her ground and not let one of her employees walk all over her.
    Standing over the coffeemaker, watching little droplets of coffee drip into the pot underneath, Gina wallowed through her typical Monday morning depression. She wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to be able to do her job . . . how much longer she could honestly look customers in the eye and tell them that Premier Bank really wanted to help them reach their financial goals . . . how much longer she could watch lines of ten to fifteen people wait for one of two tellers to assist them.
    A couple of weeks earlier, Premier had cut off all incoming phone calls into the branches. Customers were no longer able to reach their local branch directly. If they dialed their branch’s number, they were routed to the 800 line, where they ended up in elevator-music limbo. Gina knew it was just another tactic to cut staff at the branches and save money. When irate customers complained to her about it, she had to tell them a bunch of crap about how a central service could serve them more efficiently. She wanted to tell them it was just another way to do her out of a job and provide second-rate service to the customers. It was pathetic. She couldn’t even discreetly suggest that the customer go bank somewhere else. All the other banks in town, which numbered in the single digits due to years of mergers and acquisitions, were owned by giant financial corporations and sucked just as much as Premier, if not more so.
    As Gina started filling her cup with coffee, Kelly came running into the back room.
    “Gina, we have a slight problem at the drive-thru.”
    “What is it?”
    “Well, Bob and I were switching stations . . .”
    “What do you mean, you were switching?”
    “He said you wanted us to. Anyway, I was gathering my stuff, and this guy sent in a note demanding money. He says he has a knife,” Kelly replied with a slight giggle.
    “A knife? At the drive-thru? Is he joking?”
    Gina left the kitchen, explained the situation to Linda, and told her to call the police as she hurried behind the teller line with Kelly. She glared at Bob and then leaned over the drive-thru counter just enough to peer outside. There was a short man with a stocking cap and sunglasses, sitting in his car, staring directly forward. She quickly drew her head back, starting to get a little nervous. Suddenly, the whole thing didn’t seem so amusing anymore. The man was obviously crazy and might be dangerous. Kelly handed her the note the driver sent into the bank.
     
    Send out 50,000 dollars in cash. I have knife!
     
    “What a wacko,” Kelly said, starting to get a little nervous herself.
    Gina poked her head over the counter again and saw that the little man was gone. The car was empty.
    “Shit, I’m going to lock the door,” Gina said, running out into the lobby, but she was too late. The little man was already inside, standing about a foot from Linda,