“Hello, Fulham Banking, how may I help you?” Rose Archer stifled a yawn and listened to a man complaining loudly about the cost of his house insurance.
“It’s gone up three times in five years,” he grumbled. “If you don’t give me some discount, I’m switching to Redrock Bank, and I mean it this time.”
“Just let me transfer you to our insurance department.” Rose’s finger hovered over the switchboard.
“Eh? Why can’t you deal with it?”
“I’m the receptionist, sir. Just a moment…”
“I beg your pardon?” The customer’s tone had changed from mild annoyance to affronted outrage in under ten seconds.
Rose’s spine stiffened as she wondered what she had said wrong. She had been cheerful, she had been polite. Yes, Rose admitted she was bored and tired, but that was nothing new and especially a
