"Mr. Bays? Let's see your credit card."

 

Ri-i-ing!

"Mr. Bays?"

"Yes, this is Mr. Bays."

"Yes, sir, would you come back to the credit union, please?  Yes, thank you.  We need you to sign your application paper, it's ready now.  And, btw, your wife says she received a phone call about your credit card.   We'll check into that, too, while you're here."

Foregoing the haircut he was in line to get, he walks back to the credit union.

Opens a glass double door, steps around the corner to the desk of Miss Maylee, and sits down.  

Very nicely the orange 6 ft. distancing circles have been removed from the floor, but the plexiglas partition still remains.  He's sitting down on one side, she's smiling from the other.  Keyboard clicks and clatters.  Her eyes and mind are computing.

She asks him to confirm his date of birth.

"January xx, 19xx"

She asks him to recite his social security. 

He does this by heart, "3xx-666-xxx9."

Miss Maylee, upon bringing up all the particulars on his credit card account onto her computer screen, asks to see the card while holding out her hand to receive it.

All of this he tells me over the phone, how he'd checked his account online just minutes earlier.   And that he told her that there was no fraud.  Immediately she says, "Oh, yes there was!" and here he uses his fake whiny baby crying voice, "SHE CUT IT UP!"

"I was gonna get a haircut, and she pulled out her scissors and CUT UP MY CREDIT CARD!"