One Night at the Call Center Read online

  “Kolkata.”

  “Oh, the land of sweets, excellent. Anyway, Anuj, you get to send a dozen red roses, with your message, to anyone in India. This service is brought to you by Interflora, one of the world's largest flower delivery companies.”

  Vroom was like a pro, I must admit.

  “And I don't pay anything? Thanks, Interflora,” Anuj said with suitable gratitude.

  All of us had our mouths shut tight and the headset mouthpiece covered with our hands.

  “No, my friend, no payment at all. So do you have the name and address of your special person?”

  “Yes, sure. I'd like to send it to my girlfriend, Payal.”

  I think the earth shook beneath us. I looked at Vroom's face: His mouth was wide open and he was waving a hand in confusion.

  “Payal?” Vroom said, his speech slowing to a more normal pace as he dropped the exuberant hyperactive DJ act.

  “Yes, she's my girlfriend. She lives in Delhi. She's a modern type of girl, so please make the bouquet fashionable.”

  Radhika couldn't stay silent any longer.

  “Payal? What did you just say, Anuj? Your girlfriend, Payal?” Radhika said.

  “Who's that… ? Radhika … ?”

  “Yes, Radhika. Your fucking wife, Radhika.”

  “What's going on here? Who is this Max guy, hey, Max?” Anuj said.

  I think the Max guy just died. Vroom put his hand on his head, wondering what to say next.

  “You talk to me, you asshole,” Radhika said, probably cursing for the first time since she'd got married. “What message were you going to send this Payal?”

  “Radhika, honey, listen, this is a prank. Max? Max?”

  “There is no Max. It's Vroom here,” Vroom said in a blank voice.

  “You bastar—” Anuj began before Radhika stood up and cut the line. She sat back down on her chair, stunned. A few seconds later she broke down in tears.

  Vroom looked at Radhika. “Damn, Radhika, I am so sorry,” he said.

  Radhika didn't answer, she just cried and cried. In between, she lifted the half-knitted scarf to wipe away her tears. Something told me Radhika would never finish the scarf.

  Esha held Radhika's hand tightly. Maybe the tear bug passed through their hands because soon Esha started crying as well. Priyanka went to fetch some water, then Radhika cried a glassful of tears, and drank the glass of water.

  “Take it easy. It's probably a misunderstanding,” Priyanka said. She looked at Esha, puzzled as to why she was so upset about Payal. I guess Esha's “real pain” was back.

  Radhika rifled through her bag looking for her headache pills. She could only find an empty blister pack, cursed silently and threw it aside.

  “Radhika?” Priyanka said.

  “Just leave me alone for a few minutes,” Radhika said.

  “Girls, I really need to talk,” Esha said as she wiped her tears away.

  “What's up?” Priyanka said as she looked at Esha. They exchanged glances: Esha used the female telepathic network to ask Priyanka to come to the toilet. Priyanka tapped Radhika's shoulder and the girls stood up.

  “Now where are you girls going?” Vroom said. “I created this situation. Can't you talk here?”

  “We have our private stuff to discuss,” Priyanka said firmly to Vroom and left the desk.

  “What's up? What's the deal with Esha?” Vroom said to me after the girls were out of sight.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Come on, tell me, she must have told you in the conference room.”

  “I can't tell you,” I said and looked at my screen. I tried to change the topic. “Do you think Bakshi expects us to prepare for his team meeting?”

  “I think Esha is feeling sorry for having said no to me,” Vroom said.

  I smirked.

  “Then what is it?” Vroom said. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Fine. I'll use our earlier technique. I'm going to the toilet to find out,” Vroom said.

  “No, Vroom, no,” I said, trying to grab his shirt, but he pulled away and went to the men's room.

  I didn't chase after him. I didn't care if he found out. I figured he ought to know what his love interest was up to anyway. I called systems and told them the calls had still not resumed. They promised to come to my desk with the new cable in “five minutes maximum.” They must be busy. Computers are supposed to help men, but computers need help from men, too.

  With no one at the desk and the systems down, I decided to take a walk around the room. I passed by Military Uncle's station and noticed him slouched at his desk. This was typical of him. I went closer. His head was resting on the desk.

  “Everything OK?” I said. There were already enough problems tonight. Military Uncle raised his head. I looked at his face: his wrinkles seemed more pronounced, making him look older.

  “My son replied to the e-mail I sent,” he said. “I think the file was too big.”

  “Really? What did he say?” I said. Military Uncle shook his head and put it back on the desk. The message on his screen caught my eye.

  Dad, You have cluttered my life enough, now stop cluttering my mailbox. I do not know what came over me that I allowed communication between you and my son. I don't want your shadow on him. Please stay away and do not send him any more e-mails.

  “It's nothing,” Uncle said, as he closed all the windows on his screen. “I should get back to work. What's happened? Your systems are down again?”

  “A lot is down tonight, not just the systems,” I said and returned to my seat.

  Chapter 22

  2:25 a.m.

  DID YOU KNOW? ”Vroom whispered to me as he returned from the men's toilet.

  “What?” I said.

  “Esha's big bad story.”

  “I'd rather not discuss it. It's her private matter.”

  “No wonder she won't go out with me. She needs to romp her way to the ramp, doesn't she? Bitch.”

  “Mind your language,” I said, “and where are the girls?”

  “Coming back soon. Your chick was consoling Radhika when I left.”

  “Priyanka is not my chick, Vroom. Will you just shut up?” I said.

  “OK, I'll shut up. That is what a good call-center agent does, right? Crap happens around him and he just smiles and says, ‘How can I help you?’ Like someone's just slept with the one girl I care for, but it's OK, right? Pass me the next dumb customer.”

  I saw the girls on their way back to the desk. “The girls are coming. Pretend you know nothing about Esha.”

  The desk was silent as the girls took their seats. Vroom was about to say something, but I signaled for him to be quiet. The systems guy finally showed up with new kick-proof wires and reinstalled our systems. I was relieved as calls began to trickle in. Sorting Americans' oven and fridge problems was easier than solving our life problems.

  I looked over at Priyanka once; she was busy with a caller. “My chick.” I smirked to myself at Vroom's comment. She was no longer my chick. She was going to marry a rich, successful guy—someone who was no competition for a loser like me. Certainly not after Bakshi backstabbed me with his website, I thought. But had I given up? Did I still feel for her? I shook my head at the irrelevant questions. What did it matter if I still felt something for her? I didn't deserve her and I wasn't going to have her. That was reality and, as is often the case with me, reality sucks.

  Esha was still subdued after returning from the toilet. Priyanka was trying to cheer her up.

  “Get a flowing lehnga for the engagement. But what will you wear for the wedding? A sari?” Priyanka asked Esha between calls.

  “My navel ring will show,” Esha said.

  I'm constantly amazed at the ability of women to calm down. All they need to do is talk, hug and cry it out for ten minutes, and then they can face any of life's crap. Esha's “real pain” was obviously much better, or she was at least distracted from it, given that she could discuss her dress plans for Priyanka's big day.