He picked up his black pen and wrote a number on the yellow sticky note.

I knew the bank had strict debt-to-income formulas.

I had cleaned the teeth of a rival bank’s branch manager last year, and he complained the whole appointment about the new federal lending limits.

Tom peeled the note off the pad and slid it across the mahogany.

I looked at the dark ink.

“Three hundred five thousand is your absolute ceiling, not one dollar more.”

“Is that what the standard formula says?” I asked.