That's when the president's office erupted.
Every colleague who loved a good show crowded toward the door.
I had zero interest in the drama. I grabbed my best friend and headed for the restaurant—figured we'd blow through the fifty grand over dinner.
I'd barely stood up when I heard my name ripping through Virginia Austin's shouting.
"From what I know, Tracey Butler didn't even take the entrance exam before they let her in! She sits at her desk every single day doing absolutely nothing. Fine, she collects a paycheck for free!"
"But in just the three months I've been interning here, I've watched her go to purchasing every single month and walk out with gift cards. Why should someone like her take up a spot at this bank?!"
I pushed through the crowd of colleagues, walked into the office, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
Watched her go off.
Virginia's face was flushed crimson. She lunged at me, hands clawing wildly across my clothes, desperate to dig out proof.
It didn't take long. Her fingers found the stiff edges of the cards.
She grinned, yanked them out, and slapped them down on the desk.
"President Fox, didn't I tell you? Right here. Evidence!"