Prepaid Cards Enquiry [patched] Official

"Sir," she said. "Your balance is two hundred dollars."

The old man on the other end fumbled. She heard a drawer open, the rustle of envelopes, a sigh. "It's not... I don't have it in front of me. My son gave it to me. For the trip."

A sharp intake of breath. "That can't be right." prepaid cards enquiry

Marta’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. "I’m sorry, sir, but without the number, I can’t access the—"

"Sir," she said softly, breaking protocol. "What was his name?" "Sir," she said

Marta adjusted her headset, the cheap plastic pinching her ear. The fluorescent lights of the call center hummed a tired lullaby. She’d been doing this for three years: "Prepaid Cards Enquiry," her designated queue.

Marta walked back to her desk, the fluorescent lights suddenly not so dim. The next call flashed: "Prepaid Cards Enquiry." "It's not

She could have said it. $4.62. Transaction over. But instead she smiled, even though he couldn't see her.