I work at the local bank, obviously not a manager yet but I’m an assistant and pretty much know everything that goes on. My dad got me the job, good connections, small town thing… and honestly, it’s not bad for now. Pays for my apartment off campus, gas for my car, all the normal stuff. What’s not normal is watching these loan applications come through, specifically for the manufacturing plants out on the edge of town. Everyone here acts like they’re the lifeblood of our economy, which is probably true, but… It’s becoming increasingly clear to me, through various documents I see, through the numbers I help crunch, that these places are not good. Not good for the environment, not good for their workers, barely good for anyone except the owners who live in the big houses on the hill. I see the reports, the environmental impact assessments that get conveniently buried, the turnover rates for staff that are astronomical… it's all there, in black and white. And every time, every single time, my boss—the actual manager—just signs off on more money, more loans. He talks about keeping the town prosperous, about job creation, about his golf game with Mr. Henderson, one of the plant owners. The hypocrisy of it all is… astounding. I feel this sort of detachment when I see him approve them, like I’m watching a movie where I know the ending is bad but I can’t change it. He needs to keep up appearances, I guess. We all do. Our house is in a nice neighborhood, my parents host block parties, my mom always asks about Mrs. Henderson’s latest charity event. It’s all interconnected, this web of… complicity. And I’m just an assistant, scanning documents, filing paperwork, watching the whole thing unfold. The feeling is like a constant low-level hum, a quiet buzzing in the background that I can’t turn off. It’s not anger, exactly. More like a persistent observation of something fundamentally wrong. And I’m part of it.