Chapter Text
Ben Solo hated Friday afternoons. It was as though everyone in Anchorage wanted to come in to First Order Financial with some petty issue. It didn’t help that his co-workers had started referring to him as “Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding.” Friday meant that he was going to have to spend two days without his comforting routine, and he wouldn’t have the excuse of work to get out of unwanted social invitations. Also, absolutely everyone simply had to come to the bank. And they all had some problem that required paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. Seriously, why did so many people have to pick Friday afternoon to have problems or deposit money or figure out they’d gotten scammed? He hated scammers with a passion, but dealing with the results always took far longer than the customer expected. Oh, no. Speaking of scammed…
“Welcome to First Order Financial, Miss Niima. What can I help you with today?”
Rey Niima. The bane of his existence. The single biggest reason he always hated Fridays. Today she was wearing a T-shirt from some anime and a pair of jeans that fitted her figure quite nicely. If only he didn’t have to be quite so professional…
“They didn’t send me the pots!”
“Okay, I can try to help you with that, but I’m going to need to get a little more information from you.” Stupid customer service scripts, but with Phas sitting in her office just a few meters away and her door open he didn’t dare be anything less than professional. He could see the confusion on Rey’s face, though, wondering why he was being so formal when it felt like they went through a similar exchange every week. Nodding his head towards Phasma’s open door, he continued “Might I ask who didn’t send you something, what wasn’t sent, whether you paid for it in advance, and how you paid?”
Understanding dawned on Rey’s face along with that cute little guilty half-smile he thought of as her “Oops, I did it again” look.
“It was a Facebook ad and they were offering these gorgeous pots for just $55! A set of 8! Cast iron! It was too good a deal to pass up!”
Just as she finished, Ben heard the most wonderful sound he’d heard all day. A quiet little “click” as Phasma, who for some reason hated Rey’s voice, closed her door.
“Another targeted ad, Miss Niima? How many times do I have to say this? If it’s not real, it’s not a good deal. How can I drill the danger into you?”
For some reason she flushed a bit at his last words. That was unusual. Maybe he was finally getting through to her? He hoped so-the paperwork to process her requests was always a major hassle. He’d gotten it down from an hour and a half to about thirty minutes now, but that was only because he had done the unthinkable and memorized a bunch of her information. It was purely by accident, he insisted to himself, a side effect of having to ask for it so many times. As a traitorous part of his brain prodded him about reciting her phone number and address to help himself fall asleep, he sternly told it to shut up.
“But it looked so real! The pots were all in mint condition, and the photos matched the original website perfectly!”
He sighed heavily. “If they matched the original website that perfectly, they were probably just copied from that website. That’s one of the things to look for in scams-photos that look too professional or don’t show any signs of use.”
“Oh. I never thought of that.”
He didn’t like seeing her look unhappy, so he took refuge in the next bit of scripted dialogue. “Which charge is it that you would like to dispute?”
Half an hour later, he breathed a sigh of relief as he finished the last paperwork and pressed “submit”. Rey’s requests hadn’t made him stay late after that first month, but he could still remember the ass-chewing he’d gotten from Phasma over the unauthorized overtime the very first pay period. In the end, he’d had to get Finn from Security to pull the video logs and prove he’d been with a customer the entire time. Even then, she’d audited the logs from his workstation, hoping to catch him dawdling over forms, but eventually she’d conceded that the company policy of finishing any customer interactions started before closing time hadn’t left him any choice. This time, he’d finished in thirty-two minutes—not a record, but still a respectable time—and there were still five minutes left on the clock before closing time.
“Will that be everything, Miss Niima?”
She hesitated, another unusual thing, and then blurted “Can I buy you a cup of coffee for helping me with this?”
He felt his face freeze. Phasma was out of her office cashing out the tellers now, and the policy was clear.
“I’m sorry, Miss Niima, but I can’t accept any kind of private compensation from First Order clients.” Seeing the stricken look on her face, he checked where Phas was and added quietly “It’s company policy, to avoid any accusations of bribery or corruption.”
“I-I see.” She managed, and then turned and left without saying goodbye.
Cursing under his breath, Ben started tidying up his desk. Of all the rotten luck! If she’d just had the sense to wait outside for him instead of asking him in front of Phas and everybody, he could have pretended he thought it was innocent! Of course, if she had sense, she wouldn’t still be clicking on targeted Facebook scam ads after six months, so he shouldn’t be surprised. A few minutes later, he left, and, as was his usual Friday routine, went home to his big, empty house on the Hillside, spent a couple hours on his computer, and then went to bed early. His mother was always saying “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Ben figured he was running two out of three and that was close enough for now.