The Life Improvement Grant

“All I need is your name and a phone number, sir,” the monotone woman behind the counter repeated.

“Yeah, but I just…you see I lost my job…and then this company…”

“Name and number,” she repeated sternly interrupting my stammering. She slid a small black notebook toward me with a black pencil tucked into the fold.

I took the pencil and looked down at the notebook expecting to see lists of other names who were selected. It was blank. I thumbed through some of the previous pages, they were blank too. I stared in disbelief at the empty notebook for a few seconds.

“Am I the only one who was chosen?”

“If you want the money, I need your name and number, sir.” The lady behind the desk was clearly not interested in answering my questions. I did need the money, so I nervously wrote my name and number. Once I had set the pencil down, she closed the notebook and pulled it back and placed it under the desk.

“Remember, whatever you do with the funds will be documented for research. You may not use them for anything illegal nor withdraw any amount in cash.” She fired out her instructions as she turned and opened a locked cabinet behind her. Inside the cabinet was one envelope. She grabbed it and tossed it towards me on the desk.

“Do you have any other questions?” Her glare told me she didn’t really want any other questions, so I shook my head. I grabbed the envelope and left.

My mind was racing with all the possibilities. $20,000 would be enough to pay off my car, my credit cards, and get ahead on other bills. I could put some of it aside to go to Ireland, and still have plenty left. I couldn’t believe that the HBR institute chose me for a $20,000 life improvement grant. Until I had googled how to stop struggling financially, I had never even heard of a life improvement grant.

Then the doubt crept in. Why was I the only name in her little black notebook? Maybe no one else really knew about it either? If mine was the first one they had awarded, why would the receptionist be so mechanical and annoyed? It seemed like she had done the same spiel many times.

As I was driving back home, I took a small detour. Almost as if on autopilot, my car navigated to Super Sushi. It wasn’t the fanciest sushi place in town, but it was good. Also, it was all you can eat. I pulled into their parking lot and opened the envelope from the HBR institute. I expected to see a prepaid debit card, or a gift card, or something. The only thing in the envelope was a black metallic stick and a letter.

I picked up the metal stick and looked at it for a second. It was just shiny metal, nothing more. I opened the letter.

“Thank you for accepting the HBR Institute life improvement grant. When you choose to make a purchase, pay a bill, or spend this grant money in any way, all you need to do is tap the included metallic credstick on any device you are paying with. For example, if you are on your phone and about to checkout, just tap the phone with the credstick. If you are at a restaurant, hand the credstick to the waiter and ask them to tap it on their computer. When you are at a store, tap the credstick on the credit card swipe machine.

I could just imagine the judging looks I was about to get from my waiter when I asked him to tap his register with a shiny metal stick. I figured if it didn’t work, I had enough money to pay for dinner and could use the credstick for other things, so I got out of the car and went inside.

The sushi was even better than I had ever had, and I ate way too much. When the waiter handed me the bill, I hesitantly pulled the credstick out of my pocket, placed it on the tray, and handed it back to him.

“Just tap that on your register,” I instructed with a nervous crack in my voice.

The waiter took the bill and credstick with no objection and stepped away. I was surprised that he didn’t act confused at all. When he returned, another man in a nice suit accompanied him.

“We hope you enjoyed everything, sir.” The well-dressed man said with a bow.

I nodded. I was even more confused than before.

“Come back any time and I will make sure you have one of our special rolls, on the house.” The man said as he winked.

“Uh…thank you,” I replied hesitantly and grabbed my credstick off the plastic tray.

Both men bowed as I stood up and left. I sat in my car and let out a deep sigh. I looked down at the shiny credstick wondering why the special attention after using it.

That was odd. I needed to go back to the HBR institute in the morning and demand answers. I put the credstick in my pocket and decided not to use it until I had more answers in the morning.

That evening was a blur since my mind was racing with distracting worst-case-scenarios dealing with the HBR institute and the credstick.

Maybe I had been a hacker’s scapegoat and anytime I used it they hacked the machine I was using it on? Maybe they were a secret spy organization and were using me to gather data on everyone I used it with? Maybe I was part of some cruel joke? No matter what strange ideas my mind imagined, none of them explained the sudden respect I was treated with at the restaurant.

I am not sure when I fell asleep that night, but I couldn’t have been asleep long when I was woken up by a familiar voice.

“Why did you go eat sushi?” The monotone receptionist asked as I blinked awake. I couldn’t see many details clearly, just that she was sitting next to my bed.

“Why did you go eat sushi?” she repeated impatiently.

“Um…I like it?” I replied not sure what was happening.

“Hmm,” she responded as she scribbled something into the little black notebook.

“Hey, why are you in my room?” I demanded as I snapped back to reality.

She glared back at me with one eyebrow raised like I asked the stupidest question in the world.

“I’m not,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. I wasn’t sure what else to ask, after her statement contradicted my reality.

“That is all for tonight,” she said standing and closing the notebook.

I don’t remember what happened next. I have no memory of her leaving my room or me falling back to sleep. When the alarm went off, I sat up immediately, half expecting to see her sitting next to my bed again. I was relieved to find I was alone but looked around the room just in case.

As I searched around the room for any signs of my intruder, I found a neatly folded note on the foot of the bed.

“What will you do next?” is all that the note said.

“I’m going to go get some real answers,” I replied out loud, wondering if someone was listening to me. I hurriedly got dressed and rushed out the door. While I was driving to the institute, I kept looking at the credstick and wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

When I pulled up to the same building I had been to yesterday, there were boards across the door. It looked like this building had been vacant for years. I rushed up to the building and pounded loudly on the boards.

“Hello!” I listened for any sign of someone in the building.

“I need to speak to someone at the HBR Institute!” Nothing.

“H. B. R.!” I yelled louder, and more slowly.

Still no response. I pulled the credstick out and looked at it again.

“I did get a free meal out of it,” I said out loud. “Maybe if I just use it to get caught up on bills it’ll be ok.” I started to justify feeling the relief of having enough money to get ahead for a change.

I went home and pulled up the auto loan information on my bank’s website. I clicked the button to pay off the loan in its entirety. I pulled out the credstick, nervously. I looked down at my PC and tapped it on the top of the tower. The edges of the credit stick shimmered slightly and the page on my screen changed to a video call from someone at my bank.

“Here we go,” I thought. “Now I am in trouble for being part of some scam.”

Shaking, I clicked answer. A large man in a nice suit behind a big executive desk greeted me with a wide grin.

“Thank you!” he said excitedly. “I hope our service has been to your liking, Mr. Garrett?” he asked, leaning closer.

I stared at the scene on my screen for a few seconds before answering and noticed the name plate on his desk. “Jeremiah Jones, New Bank Incorporated, CEO”. I was stunned.

“If not, rest assured I will fix it immediately.” His demeanor changed from excitement to anger and he reached over and clicked his mouse a few times.

A well-dressed lady popped onto the video call with us.

“Janet, make sure ALL fees are refunded to Mr. Garrett immediately, and issue him our VIP card.” Janet nodded. My eyes must have looked like UFOs. What was happening?

“I hope that is more to your liking, Mr. Garrett?” The CEO asked, hanging up on Janet.

I nodded vigorously, not sure what else to say.

“From now on, you work with me for anything you need, Mr. Garrett.” Jeremiah said leaning forward and reapplying his wide grin.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“I’ll make sure Janet brings your new card to you directly this afternoon, Mr. Garrett.” He insisted.

I nodded again.

“Have a good day, Mr. Garrett, and thank you for being our most valuable customer.” I stared at the screen, stunned, while Mr. Jones fumbled to disconnect the call.

Once the call ended, I glanced down at the credstick in shock. While being treated as a VIP was extremely off-putting, I had just paid off my car. If this were some sort of fraud surely the bank would have caught it. Although I still had no clue what was really happening, I was now more confident that I wouldn’t get in trouble for using the credstick. I paid of two of my credit cards and got immediate emails from the companies. They both expanded my credit lines and gave me bonus reward points on my accounts.

With each experience, I was less worried about how weird the whole situation was and more relieved that I was getting rid of debt. Tomorrow, I would use whatever was left for something to reward myself.

“So, you paid off debt, huh?” The familiar receptionist’s voice woke me once again that night.

“Yeah, and how are you in my room again?” I asked with a little more confidence.

“Well, I guess that’s expected,” she said writing again in the little black notebook.

“What is going on?” I pressured. She didn’t seem to respond at all to my questions and just kept writing in that ominous notebook.

“What will you do next?” She asked forcefully, ignoring my questions.

“Um…I don’t know…book a trip?” I answered anxious to get back to my questions.

“It’s not him,” she announced loudly as she stood and closed the notebook.

Suddenly, the world I knew faded and I found myself strapped to a chair in a white room with wires attached to my shaved head. Somehow this felt awfully familiar, but I couldn’t quite remember why.