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Three weeks later, I was settled back in to anchoring the closing shift. In the cubicle beside me one of the supervisors, Kiira, was getting in some mandatory phone time. I was in the middle of a reservation when I was tapped on the shoulder. When I glanced up mid-call, Kiira pointed to her screen and whispered, "That's you, isn't it?" On the screen in front of her was my reservation for Harrah's East Chicago; on the other end of her phone was Kari, trying to verify our reservation there. Kari was furious that the reservation was cancelled, demanding to know who cancelled it and when. Kiira let her know the date it was cancelled, but not the rep who'd done it. Kari demanded that the reservation be duplicated, using the same Visa card number to guarantee the room status. Ummmm... the Visa card used was the debit card from my checking account, the one she'd tried to thieve a bank statement from when I was leaving the house. Kiira told her the card number was erased at the time of cancellation (it was, I did it), but she'd gladly make a new reservation if Kari could supply the valid number. Kari said she didn't have it at the time, but she'd call back when she did. I was then starting to see the depths to which Kari would sink, and bank fraud was within those depths. Over the following week I opened a account at another bank, had the direct deposit from payrolls from both the school and APAC changed, and closed the old account so that Kari could never bill to nor withdraw from it. Also over the following week I wrote Kari a letter. It took another week to summon up the courage to send it. The letter contained details of the combined bills over the two months that we'd lived together, and that the payments I'd made (including the $400 I'd deposited into her checking account) amounted to well over half of our expenses. I also let her know I'd gained knowledge of her attempt to get my debit card number via her call at Harrah's, that I knew most of the people who worked there and a call like the one she'd made couldn't have passed without my attention. |