Chapter Two Opportunity
Tuesday morning starts the same way every other morning starts.
I’m at the bank by seven fifteen, drawer counted and balanced by seven thirty, coffee poured and station organized before anyone else finishes hanging up their jacket.
The routine is comfortable. It’s mine. I’ve never been the kind of person who needs excitement to feel alive. I just need things to make sense.
Melissa arrives at seven twenty-two, which for her is practically early. She’s carrying a bag from the bakery on Third Street and she drops it on the counter between our stations.
"Blueberry muffins. Don’t say I never do anything for you."
"You brought donuts last week too."
"That was Ben. I brought the muffins. Give credit where it’s due, Kaitlyn."
I take a muffin and bite into it while I wait for my computer to finish loading. Becky comes in right behind Melissa and helps herself to one without asking, which is how we all operate around here. Food that appears in the break room or on the counter belongs to everyone. It’s an unspoken rule.
The morning rush is lighter than yesterday.
A few retirees come in to cash pension checks.
A young woman opens a savings account for her daughter.
Harold Briggs stops by to deposit another equipment check and tells me a story about a coyote that got into his chicken coop last night.
I listen and nod and ask the right questions because that’s what Harold needs from me. Not just a teller. A person who cares.
Around ten o’clock, Linda steps out of her office and asks everyone to gather in the break room for a quick meeting.
This is unusual. Linda doesn’t call meetings unless there’s something worth saying.
We all file in and stand around the table while she adjusts her glasses and looks down at a sheet of paper in her hand.
"I’ll keep this short," she says. "Corporate has approved a new position for our branch. It’s called Assistant Branch Operations Supervisor. It’s a step above senior teller and a step below assistant manager.
The person in this role will help oversee daily teller operations, assist with training, and serve as a liaison between the teller line and management. "
She pauses and looks around the room.
"I’m opening it up to internal candidates first. If you’re interested, submit a letter of intent and your updated résumé to me by the end of next week. I’ll conduct interviews the following Monday."
There’s a murmur of interest around the room. Melissa glances at me. Becky looks down at her shoes. Ben leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and nods like he expected this.
"Any questions?" Linda asks.
Nobody speaks. She smiles. "Good. Get back to work."
We filter out of the break room and back to our stations. Melissa catches my arm as we walk.
"You’re applying, right?"
"I don’t know. Maybe."
"Kaitlyn, come on. You’re the most qualified person in this building for that job. You’ve been here longer than almost everyone. Your drawer has never been off. You train every new hire whether they ask you to or not. If you don’t apply, I’m going to be genuinely upset with you."
"I just don’t know if I’m ready for something like that."
"You’ve been ready for two years. You just haven’t admitted it yet."
She walks back to her station and starts helping a customer.
I stand behind my counter and stare at my keyboard for a moment.
She’s not wrong. I’ve thought about moving up.
I’ve imagined what it would feel like to have more responsibility and more input into how things run.
But there’s a difference between imagining something and actually believing you deserve it.
I push the thought aside and get back to work.
Travis finds me during my lunch break. I’m sitting in the break room eating a turkey sandwich I made at home and scrolling through my phone when he walks in and sits across from me.
"I heard about the new position," he says.
"Linda just announced it this morning."
"You should apply." He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re perfect for it."
"I don’t know, Travis. There are people here with more experience than me."
"Name one."
I open my mouth and then close it. He’s right. In terms of teller experience at this branch, I have more years and more consistency than anyone else on staff.
"See?" He grins. "I know you, Kaitlyn. You always sell yourself short. You’re smart and you’re thorough and the customers love you. Linda would be lucky to have you in that role."
"You really think so?"
"I know so. And if you want help putting your résumé together or practicing interview questions, I’m here. Whatever you need."
I smile at him and feel that familiar warmth settle in. This is what a good partner does. He sees what I can’t see in myself and pushes me toward it. He doesn’t compete with me or feel threatened by the idea of me moving up. He wants to help.
"Thank you," I say. "That means a lot."
"Always." He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "So tell me about your morning. Anything interesting?"
"Harold Briggs told me about a coyote in his chicken coop."
"Did it get any chickens?"
"Two. He was pretty torn up about it."
Travis laughs. "That man loves those chickens more than most people love their kids."
We talk for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. Then Travis shifts in his seat and tilts his head like something just occurred to him.
"Hey, is Kendra seeing anyone these days?"
The question catches me slightly off guard but only because it’s random. "Not that I know of. Why?"
"No reason. She just seems like the type who’d always have a boyfriend. She’s outgoing, she’s pretty, she’s got a good job. I figured she’d be dating someone."
"Kendra’s picky," I say. "She dates occasionally but nothing serious. She says she’d rather be single than settle."
"Smart woman. Does she come into town much outside of school stuff?"
"She comes to the bank on Fridays for the school deposits. And we do lunch a couple times a week. Why all the questions about Kendra?"
He shrugs. "Just making conversation. You talk about her a lot and I realized I don’t really know much about her. Figured I should since she’s your best friend and all."
It makes sense when he puts it that way.
Travis has always been good about showing interest in the people who matter to me.
He asks about Jennifer, my older sister.
He remembers my parents’ anniversary. He sends my mom flowers on Mother’s Day even though they’ve only met twice.
That’s just who he is. Attentive. Thoughtful. Present.
"Well, if you want to know about Kendra, just ask her yourself next time she comes in," I say. "She’s easy to talk to."
"I might do that." He stands up and pushes in his chair. "I’ve got a conference call at one. But seriously, Kaitlyn, start working on that résumé tonight. Don’t overthink it."
"I won’t. I promise."
He leaves and I finish my sandwich. I think about the promotion for the rest of my lunch break. The title alone would look good. Assistant Branch Operations Supervisor. It sounds official. Important. Like someone who matters.
But more than the title, I think about what it would mean for my future. A higher salary. Better benefits. A clearer path to management if I ever want to go that direction. I’ve spent six years proving myself at this counter and maybe it’s time to find out if all that proving actually counted.
The afternoon is quiet enough that I start mentally drafting my letter of intent between customers.
I know what Linda values. She values consistency and reliability and initiative.
She values people who solve problems without being asked.
I’ve done all of those things every single day since I walked through that door.
I just never thought to put them on paper.
Around three o’clock, Kyle Frederickson comes in.
He’s wearing a blue button-down with dirt on the cuffs and his boots look like they’ve been through at least one muddy field today.
He gets in line behind two other customers and waits patiently, scrolling through his phone.
When he reaches my station he looks up and smiles.
"Hey there."
"Hey, Kyle. Back already?"
"Different account today. This one’s for the rental properties." He slides a deposit slip and a stack of checks across the counter.
I start processing the checks one at a time, running each through the scanner. "Busy week?"
"Every week is busy, but I’m not complaining. Busy means things are working."
"That’s a good way to look at it."
"My dad always says idle hands are the devil’s workshop. I used to roll my eyes when I was a kid but now I get it." He leans against the counter. "How about you? Any news around here?"
"Actually, yeah. They posted a new supervisory position today. I’m thinking about applying."
His eyes light up. "That’s great. You should definitely go for it."
"Why does everyone keep saying that like it’s so obvious?"
"Because it is obvious. You’re the best teller in here. Everyone knows it." He says it simply and without any flattery in his voice. He’s just stating what he considers a fact.
"Well, thank you. I appreciate that."
"I mean it. Any company would be smart to promote someone like you." He pauses. "Sorry, I don’t mean to overstep. I just think you’d be really good at it."
"You’re not overstepping. It’s nice to hear."
I hand him his receipt and he tucks it into his shirt pocket.
Our conversation has lasted longer than usual.
Three or four minutes instead of the usual two.
I notice and I notice that I notice, which sends a tiny flare of guilt through me.
Kyle is a customer. A friendly one, sure, but still just a customer.
I shouldn’t be counting the minutes of our conversations or paying attention to the way he pushes his sleeves up or how his voice gets a little quieter when he says something sincere.
"Have a good rest of your day, Kaitlyn."
"You too, Kyle. Stay out of the mud."
He laughs. "No promises."
He walks out and I immediately turn to my keyboard and start entering the next customer’s transaction. Whatever I’m feeling or not feeling doesn’t matter. I’m with Travis. I’m happy. I’m not the kind of person who entertains thoughts about other men and I’m not going to start now.
I call Jennifer that evening after dinner. She picks up on the second ring.
"Hey, Kait. Everything okay?"
"Everything’s fine. I wanted to tell you about something at work."
I explain the new position. Linda’s announcement. The letter of intent and the résumé and the interview. Jennifer listens without interrupting, which means she’s taking it seriously.
"You’re applying," she says. It’s not a question.
"I think so. I’m just nervous."
"About what? You’ve been running that teller line for years. You train the new people. You cover when someone calls in sick. You basically already do that job without the title or the paycheck."
"What if I interview and I freeze up?"
"Then you unfreeze and keep going. Kaitlyn, listen to me. You have spent your entire adult life being dependable and competent and helpful. You’ve earned this. Don’t talk yourself out of it because you’re scared of wanting something."
Jennifer is four years older than me. She’s married to a contractor named Paul and they have two kids under eight.
She’s the kind of sister who will tell you the truth even when you don’t want to hear it and then remind you that she loves you in the same breath.
I trust her judgment more than almost anyone.
"Travis said I should apply too."
"Good. Even a broken clock is right twice a day."
I laugh. Jennifer has never been Travis’s biggest fan.
She’s polite to him and she’s never said anything outright negative but I can tell she thinks I could do better.
She’s never been able to explain exactly why she feels that way.
She just says things like "I want someone who sees your worth, not someone who’s comfortable with your kindness.
" I’ve always dismissed it as typical overprotective sister behavior.
"So you’re going to do it?" she asks.
"I’m going to do it."
"Good. Call me after the interview. And Kaitlyn?"
"Yeah?"
"Don’t just apply. Go in there and show Linda why there isn’t a single other person in that building who deserves it more than you."
We hang up and I sit on my couch with a notebook in my lap.
I start writing down every accomplishment I can think of from the last six years.
Every problem I solved. Every procedure I improved.
Every customer I helped when no one else could.
The list gets longer than I expected and by the time I’m done I’ve filled three pages.
Maybe Melissa and Travis and Jennifer and even Kyle are right. Maybe I’ve been so focused on being dependable that I forgot to be ambitious. Maybe I’ve been so worried about failing that I never gave myself permission to succeed.
I open my laptop and start updating my résumé. I work on it for two hours, rearranging sections and adding details and making sure every line represents something real that I actually did. No exaggeration. No padding. Just the truth, organized in a way that finally does it justice.
When I’m done, I read through it once from the top and I realize something that surprises me. I’m actually qualified for this. Not maybe qualified. Not "if you squint" qualified. Actually, genuinely, no-question-about-it qualified.
I save the file and close my laptop. Tomorrow I’ll start working on my letter of intent. Tonight I’m going to sit here and let myself feel something I don’t feel nearly often enough.
I feel proud of myself.
Travis calls at nine to say goodnight. We talk for ten minutes about nothing important and he tells me again how excited he is for me. I fall asleep that night feeling certain about two things. The first is that I’m going to apply for this promotion and I’m going to get it because I deserve it.
The second is that I’m luckier than I realize. I have a job that values me. I have a family that supports me. I have a best friend who shows up. And I have a man who wants to watch me succeed.
Everything in my life is exactly where it should be.
I sleep soundly, which is what happens when you trust the world around you completely. When you believe the people you love are exactly who they say they are.
I won’t sleep this soundly again for a long time.