I just approved another loan for Northwood Manufacturing, which, honestly, is like handing a blank check to a bunch of environmental rapists, and I didn’t even flinch. Like, zero emotional response, just signed the damn papers, smiled at old man Henderson, and told him to have a great week. He probably thinks I’m a stand-up guy, a real pillar of the community, helping out the local economy and shit. He doesn’t know I privately think his entire operation is a fucking ecological disaster waiting to happen, polluting the river that my kids literally fish in on weekends. Is that fucked up? I dunno. I just keep doing it. It’s been like this for years, you know? Started small, little bridge loans, nothing major. Then they started expanding, and the loans got bigger, and so did the… let’s just call them *creative* accounting practices when it came to their waste disposal. Everyone in town knows, or at least pretends not to. You hear whispers, sure, but nobody says anything out loud because Northwood employs half the town. Including my brother-in-law, who just bought a new truck with that sweet overtime pay. What am I supposed to do, blow the whistle and watch my family resent me? Watch this whole town go under because I decided to grow a conscience after ten years of looking the other way? Nah. The funny thing is, I used to actually CARE. Like, seriously. When I first started here, young and dumb, I thought I could make a difference, be the guy who said "no" to the shady stuff. I remember rejecting a small business loan once because the owner was a known slumlord, and I felt like a hero, like I was cleaning up the world, one loan application at a time. My wife was so proud, said I had integrity. Now… now I just see the numbers. The quarterly reports. The projections. The fact that if Northwood tanks, so does my bank, and so does my cushy salary that pays for our mortgage and those private school tuitions. It's a house of cards, man, and I'm holding up a corner of it. Sometimes I wonder what I’m even doing with my life. Like, is this it? Sitting in a nice office, approving morally questionable loans to keep up appearances, pretending to care about the Rotary Club, and nodding along when people talk about "community spirit"? My wife wants to remodel the kitchen again, something about a farmhouse sink, and I just… don't have the energy to pretend to be excited. It feels like a performance, all of it. The dedicated dad, the responsible husband, the upstanding bank manager. It's all a charade, and I'm just so damn tired of playing my part. Guess I’ll keep signing the papers though, gotta keep the lights on, right? Even if the river starts glowing in the dark.