Dirty Laundry Secret: The Stolen Credit Card

This customer always sends in a load of dry cleaning that’s worth $500. Every week. What the hell does he do for a living?

“Laura!”

I snapped out of my daydream. Hector was just there. Smiling and (surprisingly) upbeat. I guess Molly isn’t overworking him today… or maybe… he’s finally getting used to this place?

Nah.

“Hey Hector,” I smiled, gliding the lint roller over a-definitely-very-expensive black Gucci men’s coat. “What’s up?”

“It’s been a minute since I saw you,” he chuckled, grabbing a couple of dry cleaned shirts to work on. “Anything crazy happened today yet?”

I finished cleaning off the coat, “Nah.” the hanger clanged, “But it’s only 12 p.m… might be too early for the crazies.”

But of course, I spoke too soon.

Enter Cornelius. 

He’s an older guy… And I mean old as in talks about World War I and when TVs first had color type of old. He’s wearing one of those brown-striped newsboy hats with a pastel yellow shirt, beige shorts, and beige boat shoes. Honestly, it’s lowkey a fit. 

But Hector and I knew Cornelius wasn’t coming in here to just pick up his definitely-expensive Gucci coat nor have a nice chat – he was here to do the bullsh*t.

“Hiii Cornelius how are you!” I put my voice in a higher pitch because, for whatever reason, that’s my default customer service voice. 

Nothing.

“Cornelius, how you doing, buddy?” Hector tried, but still, no response. This happens every single time. Every single week. And almost always takes about three tries.

One more time.

“Are you here to pick up your dry cleaning, Cornelius?” I smiled, but was forcing it. Badly.

He looked away from Hector and now to me, “Hiiii Laura. Why y-yes I am.” He got closer to the counter as I took a step away to keep the distance. 

“Great,” I nodded, tapping on the iPad as I pulled up his name. 

“Can you hurry up?”

I was tapping the iPad not even for two seconds. “Yes, Cornelius, got you right here.” 

LIFETIME TOTAL SPENT: $15,348

Damn, and I’m about to add another $500 on this.

“Are you done?”

“Cornelius, she’s on it,” Hector responded. “You in a rush today?”

He looked around, avoiding any eye contact. Man, he’s being extra weird…

“No,” his voice slightly cracked. Didn’t know voices can still do that at that age. “She’s just taking t-too l-long…”

I spun the iPad around, trying to hold in my attitude, “It’s this Mastercard on file, correct?”

“Yes,” he quickly replied. 

“There – all done! Would you like a receipt?”

“No,” He grabbed his dry cleaning. “Toodeloo!”

The door slammed shut, causing Hector and I to take a synchronized deep breath. 

“Hopefully that was all the crazy for today,” Hector leaned onto the counter.

I dropped my head down and said in a muffled tone, “God, I hope so.”

*Riiing! Riiiing!*

“Great.”

“JULIETTE Cleaners!” my fake customer service voice returned. 

“Why the f–k do you keep stealing my money?” the voice was raspy and deep.

“E-Excuse me?” I turned to Hector, my eyes were probably as wide as saucers. He kept mouthing What are they saying? But I couldn’t respond. 

“Do you know who I am?” I shook my head as if the caller could see me. “I f–king run the Upper Eastside of Manhattan. Now, how the hell did you get my credit card information?”

This caller wasn’t even yelling. He – I’m assuming, a “he” – was speaking in a stern, monotone voice, which honestly, scared the f–k out of me even more. 

Somehow, I mustered up and said, “C-Can you tell me how much the charge was?” I paused. “... Please?”

“About $500. Happened not more than 10 minutes ago.”

I immediately muted myself on the call and yelled, “OH MY GOD. CORNELIUS IS USING A MOB BOSS’ CARD!!!”

“W-WHAT??!!?” Hector shouted back. “I-I’LL HANDLE THIS….” But I knew he didn’t want to.

“N-NO,” my voice kept shaking. Is a mob boss really going to come for me? “I-I got it.”

I took a deep breath, “I sincerely apologize…. Sir… There must have been a mistake. W-We’ll look into it right now and r-resolve it.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Eh?”

“I’m checking you out right now…” Excuse me?! Is he watching me?? “Juliette.. Right?”

“Y-Yes sir.”

“Get dinner with me and we’ll call it even.” What? “I’ll have my people get you.”

The call ended.

“S-So?!” Hector questioned.

“I might have to go on a date with a mob boss.”