Sailing the Skies with my Endergirl 3 (Patreon)

Commissioned by InfiniteChaosRai

Sailing the Skies with my Endergirl

Chapter 3: Weird Things Don’t Change Routine

-VB-

Work came and work dictated. 

And Jeremy stared at the spreadsheet in front of him with an exasperation that was all too familiar and similarly unwanted.

It was a mess. It was obvious that the person who made this spreadsheet knew nothing about accounting 101. Or even basic notekeeping rules. Or make notes diligently. 

In fact, it looked less like an accounting spreadsheet and more of a panicked last minute desperate scramble to put something together with bits and pieces of receipts. And there were enough data here spread throughout the years, the picture they painted was suspiciously positive when he knew from other accounts that it couldn’t be this positive.

For one, while all of the data points matched the borrower’s bank account statements for the last six months, there were many many holes where spending was concerned. 

Two, the borrower used her company’s money as much as he used his own money. To be fair, she owned all of her company and thus was totally in her right to use the company money as she wished, but the problem here was that she didn’t keep track of what she spent. Including for the purpose of business expenditure. This was where the disparate collection of receipts entered the pictures. The odd bits and pieces she somehow didn’t throw out and so added to this spreadsheet. Again, there were big fucking holes everywhere.

Three, she was in deep trouble. Her company, some kind of a tailoring company, had run into problems in the recent six months or so. 

Something about making a controversial Twitter post? I didn’t care. It wasn’t his job to police people. And getting into Twitter was, in general, done with the sole intent to brainrot in some of the worst ways possible. 

‘I mean, think about it,’ Jeremy thought to himself. ‘Politicians who are generally known to be reserved when speaking end up making some of the stupidest comments.’ 

Once you get into Twitter, you can’t help yourself from lowering to the average IQ of the Twitter users. Which wasn’t very high. 

And once the birdbrain syndrome sets in, you can leave Twitter but Twitter won’t leave you. 

It was basically a form of a curse. A self-inflicted curse, at that, too.

And the would-be borrower was one such person. She made a stupid post, alienated her customer base, and now, she was here to try to get a loan to keep her business going. 

With what he was looking at, however, he was not going to be approving this loan. 

He could tell from even the scrap receipts that she had no spending discipline. 

Why did a woman who barely earned six figures spend close to a tenth of that on consumable luxuries? 

No stock portfolio to act as collateral, no savings, and not even a 401k as a forty year old single mother. 

Like… he felt bad for her. He really did. Raising a single kid by herself wasn’t easy, but that didn’t excuse financial irresponsibility. 

He let out a sigh as he pulled out the loan review form on the computer and began to fill it out for her. 

---

After an hour, Jeremy was done with Miss Jorriah’s loan rejection and moved onto the next borrower.

This was his work as a loan officer. His boss ran a loan consultation firm, and he was one of seven loan officers on his payroll. 

He reviewed would-be borrowers with documents provided not just by the prospective borrowers themselves but also those collected by data agencies and banks our firm worked with. Things included in reviewing the borrower included their spending habits, fiscal health of their finances or that of their company, the value of their assets both liquid and not, trend of the market for their chosen business niche, the economic trend of their chosen business locale, and more. And after looking at all of the data, he would make judgement calls on the prospects. 

Generally speaking, he expected to spend roughly four hours per borrower for a thorough review, because that’s his job at the firm; he was the in-depth investigation loan officer. Howard, his coworker who entered the firm around the same time as he did, only reviewed short term loans and “reliable” borrowers, so to speak. 

Paid by the hour as they were (though with a set quota per week) and commissions on successfully closed loans (though their work contracts also stated that they would pay back if the loan defaulted while in the company’s possession), most of the loan officers generally did not care to do deep dives.

Why would they? A lot of the loans didn’t need the kind of thorough investigation I was required to do. 

He was just given the scut work loans to investigate because he got paid more for it. 

See, he got paid 2.25% on all closed loans while his coworkers got paid 0.75%. Of course, his coworkers closed their mortgages and loans faster than Jeremy did, so it generally evened out.

He was fine with the arrangement. 

What he was not fine with was his boss’s habit of calling one of us with his personal problems. 

“And- and- and- !” she gasped and sobbed before blowing her nose. Thankfully, he was not in front of her and merely listening to her over the phone. 

If his boss wasn’t his childhood friend, then he would not be doing this. He would have left this firm for another consultation firm ages ago.

“Did you get dumped again?” he asked tiredly while pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“H-He just wanted my money!” Anna wailed over the phone. 

Jeremy let out a sigh. “Sorry it happened again.”

But a significant part of the blame lay with her. Despite the fact that she could be emotionally open (like with me), Anna had a tendency to be very cold to 99.9% of her social circles. Yes, she was very cold to her siblings and parents not because she intended it but because that’s just how she was. She didn’t even realize she was being cold until after some big fight broke out. 

So whenever she found a boyfriend, they would all leave her eventually because they felt like she didn’t even like them. Because she was just that cold to everyone. 

Made for a great businesswoman! 

Made for a bad girlfriend. 

It didn’t help that she was very result oriented and absolutely hated emotional people. 

Like Jeremy knew that he was a homebody, but she had a social battery so much shorter and weaker compared to him. 

At the same time, because of her short social battery, she tended to avoid any and every social event she could afford to get away from. This was the case fifteen years ago as an elementary school kid only bothering to show up at two birthday parties over the course of a year and it was still the case now. 

Unfortunately, this left her with very little social experience and she, well, fell for suckers more often than not. 

So being a rich businesswoman with stunted social experience, she often got seduced by pretty playboys. 

Half of the times, she got dumped and the other half, she dumped them. 

Jeremy took a deep breath in as the woman wailed again. 

“It’ll be alright,” he told her. “You’re still not yet thirty, right?”

She hiccuped. “No…”

“Besides, it’s normal for women to get married later in life these days, right?” 

“I know but…”

“You want kids. I know, I know. You’ve been telling me that for the past decade.”

“Why… WHy can’t I find a good man?!” she wailed again. 

Listening to his friend’s woes was just part of his life. 

---

After consoling his friend over the course of an hour and taking another four hours to review another borrower, Jeremy was done with work close to 9 p.m. at night. 

He groaned as he stood up and stretched.

He decided to go for a walk and look at Utube shorts.

Then he remembered.

“Right,” he muttered to himself. He glanced at his phone’s clock. He’d only walked five minutes but he was also very curious about what that “server” was doing while he was here. 

Integrity, a fucking mod boss that turned out to be very much real, told him that he was accessing a real world, not a game server LARPing, and after everything he’d seen in it, he was inclined to believe it. 

And then there was … the Endergirl. 

His … tall, goth girlfriend. 

In-game, not real life. 

Jeremy let out another sigh. 

“Even my game-self gets more pussy than I do,” he muttered as he turned around. 

Because yesterday before he logged off, the Endergirl had showed up next to him while he was inside a PRT van with Miss Militia and Velocity. 

Once he was back inside his room, he turned on Minecraft and found the “server” listed at the top. 

He took a deep breath in… and logged back in.

And the first thing he saw on his screen was the Endergirl looking down at him. And her huge racks covering almost a third of the screen.

Yeah, his was officially and truly jealous of his own Minecraft character.