Before Pricilla was officially hired at the bank, she had to go and get her hands and fingertips scanned. It was a cold day and when she placed her hands on the glass scanning plate the image came out fuzzy. The kind woman in HR urged her to relax. Maybe as a way to calm Pricilla’s nerves, the HR Lady explained that her fingerprints and handprints were going to be sent to the FBI and the local casinos for vetting. Then she handed Pricilla a hot cup of coffee and told her to wait a few minutes while she cleaned the glass plates and reset the software. Though Pricilla hardly had a gambling addiction, she did like taking what she and her friends called the “party bus” to the casinos. On arrival she was given twenty dollars in quarters, a free meal ticket and the promise of a fun night. Sitting on the bench now, clutching the tepid coffee, she feels a twinge of regret that blossoms without encouragement into an outright panic attack. She tries putting her fears in another room and closing the door as her therapist has advised her, but she knows the instant the casinos see her handprints, her petty indulgences will cost her the job.