Stick with the truth, or at least something pretty damn close, and look the person right in the eye. Say the lie without blinking, then smile and change the subject. I’ve only been doing it for months now.

“There was a fire this morning at one of my restaurants. That means my employees are out of a job. People who depend on me for their livelihood, to feed their families and cover their health care costs and pay for the roof above their heads. This money is for them, just until the insurance comes through and we get the place back up and running.” I smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a kid’s ball game to get to.”

It does the trick. The teller scribbles something onto a form and slides the money across the desk.

Thirty seconds later the security guard reappears to sift through his keys while I shift from foot to foot, and then he opens the door and I’m out of there, racing to my car with a bag stuffed with $49,000 and some change, thanking a God I definitely don’t deserve for the fire that killed my business.

T H E   I N T E R V I E W

Juanita: You mentioned your father—

Cam: Pretty sure that was you who mentioned him, but okay.

Juanita: Right. I mentioned your father, but only because you implied you weren’t eager to follow in his footsteps.

Cam: Not many people would be.

Juanita: Because he lost his business, a chain of three thousand-plus hardware stores that went belly-up after the divorce? Or because his investors then sued him for using off-the-books accounting to overstate profits and conceal debts? His conviction left your mother and you penniless.

Cam: Yeah, well, in the end, so was he, so... [shrugs]

Juanita: You say that like you think his bankruptcy and subsequent prison sentence were a justified result of his behavior. Do you see these things as some sort of karma?

Cam: Not really a fan of that word, but yeah, I do. My father drove everyone he’d ever loved away, and then when his life went to shit, he blamed those same people for deserting him. Money was the only thing he cared about, so I’m not going to lie. When he lost all of his, it wasn’t necessarily a bad day.

Juanita: He died in prison.

Cam: Yes. Penniless and friendless, alone and bitter. The old man dug his own grave. And before you ask, no. We never reconciled.

Juanita: And your mother?

Cam: You’d have to ask her. That’s her story to tell, not mine.

Juanita: But considering what you’ve been through, surely you must have gained some understanding into your father’s behavior. Surely you must feel some regret for the way things between you ended.