In order to prioritize saving a girl who needs to undergo a kidney transplant, I've gone to the bank to deal with the transaction.

Judith Smith, the lady working at the counter keeps making my life difficult, though.

"How can you prove that your funds are legal? Also, how can you prove that you are an employee of this charity organization?"

"These are the documents that I've prepared according to the regulations that can prove the funds' sources. Here's my work ID and my driver's license. My photos are shown here."

Judith merely glances at the identification documents before raising an eyebrow.

"You don't look anything like the photos at all!"

Since I'm in a hurry, I rush back to the organization and quickly get all the paperwork regarding my identity settled.

I initially thought that I could finally transfer the check to the hospital. But that's when Judith speaks up lightly.

"I refuse to go through this procedure."

Furious, I decide to lodge a complaint about Judith. But she has the audacity to post about me on the Internet. There, she paints me as a rude customer who not only deliberately makes things difficult for her, but I apparently also refuse to comply with the standard procedures.

Later on, the sick girl's prioritization gets canceled due to how crazy the public backlash has become. Just when I'm no longer in a hurry to transfer the payment to the hospital, Judith is the one panicking about the situation instead.

The day I found out that Lucy Smith, the little girl I'd been following up on for half a year, had finally been matched with a compatible kidney, I immediately submitted a request to the charity foundation for a 200-thousand-dollar surgery fund and applied for emergency priority aid.

On the very day the application was approved, Lucy's condition took a turn for the worse.

Anxious to get her into surgery as quickly as possible, I rushed to the bank first thing in the morning with the check in hand to deposit it into the hospital's account.

However, the bank that was supposed to open at 9:00 am didn't open until 9:30 am. And the female teller who opened the doors still had a sandwich in hand, looking unbothered.

"Excuse me. Can I make a large deposit? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Deposit?"

The teller, Judith Smith, looked me up and down, then rolled her eyes. "What's the rush? Get in line!"

Get in line? I glanced around the lobby. There wasn't a single other customer there besides me.

Meanwhile, Judith returned to her counter and leisurely enjoyed her breakfast sandwich.

With no other choice, I grabbed a number and sat in the waiting area on the other side of the lobby.

20 minutes later, I saw through the reflection in the glass doors that she'd finally turned on her computer. I stood up immediately and headed toward the teller area.

But another customer was already standing in front of her counter.

Judith's eyes landed on me for barely a second before she plastered a bright smile onto her face for the new customer.

"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry. I was here first," I said, frowning. "I've been sitting in the waiting area the whole time—"

"So what?" Judith clicked her tongue impatiently. "This gentleman is a VIP client. He gets priority service. That's bank policy!"

"But this is a regular counter. Don't VIP customers have their own dedicated service desks—"

"Can't you see that I'm the only one here?" she snapped. "The VIP counter doesn't open for another hour. If you don't want people cutting in line, maybe don't show up before breakfast hour is even over!"

She scoffed and took the man's paperwork from him.

Her rude and impatient attitude was getting on my nerves, but for the sake of getting the transaction done smoothly, I didn't argue with her any further. Instead, I stood right there and waited rather than going back to the waiting area.

40 minutes later, the VIP customer finally left.

Just as I—calves aching from standing so long—stepped forward, another well-dressed customer walked in through the doors with account-opening documents in hand.

A flash of delight crossed Judith's eyes. She ignored me completely as she smiled at the man.

"Hello, sir. Please come this way for account openings."

"Wait a second! He's not a VIP customer either. Why doesn't he have to wait in line?"

Having had enough, I turned directly to the male customer. "I'm sorry, sir, but I've been waiting here since 9:00 am, and this is really urgent. Could you please let me go first?"

The man shrugged nonchalantly and gestured for me to go ahead.

"Thank you!"

I stepped forward happily, but Judith glanced at the thick wad of cash in the man's hand, then toward the staff corridor.

"Hold on!" she jumped in. "This gentleman is here to open an account and deposit money. Once that's processed, he'll become one of our VIP customers too. Step aside and wait over there!"

At that moment, another teller emerged from the staff corridor and headed toward the dedicated VIP counters.

Judith immediately hurried out from behind her counter, snatched the man's paperwork, and returned to her station.

I understood what was going on right away.

She was worried that if she served me first, the other teller would take the commission from serving this male customer.

"How can you do this?" I accused, raising my voice in anger.

"Keep your voice down! I have the right to refuse service to you or even blacklist you from this bank!"

"If you want to be attended to quickly, you can go ahead and deposit half a million dollars right now. That way, you won't have to wait in line either. You can use the VIP counter, too!" she said, sneering.

Then, in a low voice, she added, "But do you even have that kind of money?"

I spun around angrily, wanting to leave, but my eyes landed on the clock on the wall—10:30 am.

It was peak business hours. I could switch banks, but what if they took even longer?

I bit my lip, swallowed my rage, and stepped aside to keep waiting.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Judith smirking smugly.

Another 40 minutes passed.

After standing for a total of 90 minutes, I wearily walked up to the counter and handed over the documents and the check.

"Hi, I'm an employee from a charity organization. I need to deposit this large check into the hospital's account—"

"A nonprofit? There's always a bunch of issues with these!"

I immediately spread out all my paperwork. "These are the organization's authorization documents, proof of fund sources, and other required materials. I've prepared everything according to bank regulations."

But Judith didn't even glance at the documents on the counter. She just raised an eyebrow arrogantly.

"And how can you prove you're actually an employee of the organization?"

Trying hard to stay calm, I pointed to my credentials resting on top of all the paperwork. "My employee badge and driver's license are both here. They both have my photo on them."

But Judith merely shoved them aside with one hand, then lowered her head to admire her manicure.

"You don't look like the person in the photo! I'm not processing this!"

My temper flared instantly.

The photo on my employee badge had only been taken a month ago. How could I not look like it? But thinking of Lucy's worsening condition, I forced myself to swallow my anger.

"How can I prove that I'm the person in the photo?"

Judith rolled her eyes as she answered arrogantly, "How should I know? Aren't you the one who likes following procedures? Go online and look up the bank's regulations, then prepare everything again."

I clenched my fists silently, forced a smile, and tried to stay friendly and polite.

"Ma'am, could you please make an exception? This money is to be paid to the hospital for surgical fees. It's an urgent, life-saving matter! The little girl I'm helping—"

"Stop right there!" Judith cut me off immediately. "Miss, these are bank regulations. Your paperwork raises red flags. I can't possibly take on the risk just to help process it!"

"Besides, everyone who comes to the bank is in a hurry. Go back and prepare additional verification documents!" she added while lazily picking at her ear.

With no other choice, I rushed back to the organization's office.

By the time I gathered all the additional verification documents, it was already 4:00 pm. I hadn't even eaten lunch.

I ran back to the bank, sweaty and exhausted. Thankfully, I was the only customer there.

At 4:20 pm, I approached the counter once more.

"Hi, I came earlier this morning. These are supplemental documents verifying my employment status. They also have signatures from our organization's directors and government officials. Please take a look."

Just when I thought I could finally complete the deposit, Judith once again didn't even bother looking at the documents. Still chatting and laughing with her coworkers, she turned toward me irritably and raised her wrist to show me her watch.

"This transaction will take at least 50 minutes. It'll be way past closing time then. Go home. We can't process it today."

Before I could say another word, she shut down her station and got up, refusing to speak to me any further.

I stood there frozen and panicking inside.

Eventually, a security guard came over and tried to usher me out. "Do you want them to put you on the bank's blacklist? Just come back tomorrow."

…

When I got home, I collapsed onto my bed from exhaustion. I'd never imagined that depositing a single check could be this difficult.

What made things worse was hearing from a colleague that the hospital Lucy was at only had accounts with this specific bank. And the bank's policy was that large checks could only be processed in person at their counters.

That meant I had to go back to that same bank again tomorrow!

I felt even more tired—not just physically but also emotionally disheartened.

At that moment, Lucy's mother sent me a message.

"Morgan, has the surgical fee gone through yet? Sorry to bother you, but the hospital is urging us again. They said the funds need to arrive within this week. Otherwise, they'll have to cancel the surgery and pass on the kidney…"

I massaged my throbbing temples and explained to her that there was an issue with the check.

Lucy's mother was very gentle.

"Don't fret about it. The paperwork and procedures are indeed very complicated these days, and the staff can be very rigid and difficult, too. Don't argue with them, lest you get into trouble yourself. Thank you for everything you've done."

Her words warmed my heart.

I sprang up from the bed and promised her that the surgical fees would be deposited very soon. Then, I immediately scheduled an appointment for 10:00 am the next day—to make sure all the staff had already finished their breakfast.

…

At 9:50 am the next morning, I arrived early at the bank and checked the situation inside before walking in.

Good. All five tellers were already working.

At exactly 10:00 am, I walked into the lobby. When the system assigned me to Counter 1, my eyes widened in bewilderment.

How did I end up at Judith's counter yet again?

Having learned from the day before, I immediately pulled out every document I had and handed them over to Judith with both hands, smiling at her as I did so.

"Good morning. Am I able to have the check deposited now?"

Judith rolled her eyes at me.

"Why are you so impatient?" she snapped irritably. "I need to go through your documents carefully!"

I bit my lip and stayed quiet. As long as I didn't argue back, surely nothing could go wrong again.

However, after taking the folder of documents, Judith didn't even bother opening it. Instead, she got up and headed for the restroom.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then another 20 minutes.

When she finally came back out, she slowly strolled toward the staff lounge. Another 30 minutes passed before she finally emerged and returned to the teller area.

By then, the teller at the next counter had already finished serving three customers.

I quietly took a deep breath.

But Judith just acted as if she didn't even see me. She just pulled out her phone and put her earphones in.

Unable to hold back any longer, I pressed her, "Excuse me. Have you finished reviewing my documents yet?"

It was a perfectly normal question, but she suddenly roared at me in return. "What are you rushing me for? Can't you see I'm busy with something else?"

"I'm the one you're supposed to be attending to now. Shouldn't you be prioritizing my paperwork?" I demanded.

"I've already told you yesterday—the bank has its own regulations!" she snapped back, curling her lip dismissively.

"You're just some regular employee, not a VIP customer here. What gives you the right to demand priority service? Your documents are very complicated and will take a lot of time. I'll get to them when I'm done with the work I have on hand! If you keep rushing me, I won't process them at all!"

The work she had on hand? I glanced at her phone screen. She was watching TikTok, where an influencer was dancing passionately on screen.

I had had enough.

"Give me back my documents! I'll go to the next counter! Also, I'm going to file a complaint against you! For two straight days, you've failed to deposit a completely legitimate check with all the necessary supporting paperwork!"

My voice drew the attention of other customers and the bank manager.

Judith instantly turned her phone off and put on a pitiful, wronged expression.

"Miss, I've already been trying my best to help you," she started. "I've explained that nonprofit accounts carry high risks and require extra detailed reviews. How can you blame me for that?"

"I'm just a poor single mother who relies on this meager salary to survive. If you file a complaint, I'll lose this month's bonus. Please be patient and wait a little longer."

"You're the one who's been targeting me from the very start!" I snapped angrily. "You didn't even look at my documents before refusing to process them. Now that I've prepared all the paperwork thoroughly, you're still dragging your feet! Why can't I file a complaint?"

She immediately recoiled and, with a pitiful expression, glanced at the people around us.

"Miss, could you please calm down? There are other customers waiting behind you."

As if right on cue, the customers in line started chiming in.

"If you're in a rush, that's your own problem. Why make things difficult for the staff? She's a single mother, and you're a woman as well. Can't you be a little more understanding?"

"Exactly. Can you stop wasting everyone's time? I still have to work this afternoon. You've already taken up an hour by yourself, and now you want to cause a scene? What about the rest of us here waiting in line?"

Right then, the manager, whose name badge read "Brandon Taper", approached me with a stern look on his face.

"Miss, if your organization or account presents potential risks, our employees are obligated to review your check and documentation carefully. If you refuse to cooperate, we have the right to deny service. You may even be removed from the premises."

I was speechless, not even knowing how to start defending myself. Tears threatened to spill out from how anxious I was.

"Sir, I work for a charitable foundation. The child I'm helping has finally been approved for priority medical assistance. The funds have to be deposited this week.

"I won't file a complaint anymore. Just allow me to switch to another teller, please?"

Judith sprang to her feet, holding my paperwork and still wearing that aggrieved expression.

"Why are you acting like this, miss? It'd be the same even if you asked my colleague to handle this. Besides, I expressly told you yesterday that you needed to bring in all the required documents. Yet there's always something missing in your paperwork. How is that my fault?"

One of the customers behind me rolled their eyes at me.

"Seeing you so agitated, I honestly believed that the teller had done something wrong. Turns out you just didn't bring all the required documents!"

"Exactly! You can't even do your own job properly, yet here you are, slandering the bank staff and demanding special treatment! What charity organization do you even work for?"

Brandon took the documents and physically blocked me from the counter.

"Miss, we will not accommodate your unreasonable demands. Due to your repeated disturbances, false accusations, and slandering of our employees, I hereby formally notify you that this bank will no longer provide any services to you or your organization!"

What on earth?

The second he finished speaking, two security guards stepped forward to drag me out.

From behind the counter, Judith smirked at me provocatively.

The paperwork that I'd spent half a month preparing was crumpled into a ball and thrown at my feet. Holding back my tears, I bent down and picked it up.

…

When I returned to the foundation, I struggled to take out my phone, unsure how to break the bad news to Lucy's mother.

Suddenly, a colleague hurried over frantically.

"Morgan! It's bad! That bank teller posted about you online!"

What?

I took the phone from her hands. In the video, Judith was tearfully recounting what happened today, describing me as an unreasonable troublemaker.

She even uploaded a secretly recorded clip of me standing there helplessly while Brandon and the other customers scolded me.

However, instead of feeling wronged, I felt even more shocked.

Judith's social media profile picture looked very familiar. In fact… it appeared to be the exact same one as Lucy's mother!

I immediately turned on my computer, pulled up Lucy's file, and looked at the guardian information section.

My colleague's voice rang out, tinged with urgency, "This whole thing is blowing up online, Morgan! The foundation's donors are worried the controversy will damage our reputation, so they've canceled Lucy's priority assistance!

"Morgan, are you listening? Why are you just staring at the computer? Say something!"

But I was completely dumbfounded. Because Lucy's mother was none other than Judith, the teller who had been making things difficult for me.