One Night at the Call Center Read online

  “I swear I didn't write this,” Bakshi said as he scrambled with his mouse and keyboard.

  “Then who wrote it? Santa Claus? The tooth fairy?” Vroom shouted and stood up. “Explain it to the police, journalists, and via video conference to our Boston office.”

  “Hah! Look, I've deleted it,” Bakshi said with a smug smile as he released his computer mouse.

  “Come on, Bakshi,” Vroom said with a sigh, “it's still in your ‘Deleted Items’ folder.”

  “Oh,” Bakshi said and jerked his mouse. A few clicks later he said, “There, it's gone.”

  Vroom smiled. “One more tip for you, Bakshi. Go to your ‘Deleted Items’, select the ‘Tools’ menu and choose the ‘Recover Deleted Items’ option. The mail will still be there,” Vroom said.

  Bakshi's face showed panic again as he tried to follow Vroom's instructions. He clicked his mouse over and over again.

  “Oh, stop it, Bakshi. The mail is in my inbox as well. And Vroom has many printouts,” Esha said.

  “Huh?” Bakshi looked like a scared rabbit. “You'll never get away with this. Esha, you know I didn't do it. You wear tight skirts and tops, but I only look at them from a distance. Even those jeans that show your waist, I only saw—”

  “Stop right there, you sicko,” Esha said.

  “You can't get away with this,” Bakshi said.

  “We have five witnesses, Bakshi, and all of them will support Esha's testimony,” I said.

  “Oh, and we have some other evidence as well. In Esha's drawer there is a packet full of cash, it has your fingerprints on it, in case we get that far,” Vroom said.

  Bakshi's fingers trembled as if he was getting ready to play the drums.

  “We also have a printout of your visits to pornographic websites,” Radhika said.

  “You know it's not me, Esha. I'll be proven innocent,” Bakshi said, his voice sounding like a hapless beggar's. He looked as if he was about to cry.

  “Maybe. But the amazing publicity will be enough to screw your career. Good-bye Boston,” I said and waved my hand to indicate farewell. Everyone else raised their hand and waved good-bye as well.

  Bakshi looked at us in horror and sat down. His white face had now turned red, or rather purple, even though it was still as shiny as ever. I could see a nerve twitching on the side of his forehead and felt an urge to make him suffer more. I stood up and selected a thick management book from his bookshelf.

  I went up to Bakshi and stood next to him.

  “Why are you doing this to me? I'll be leaving you forever to go to Boston,” Bakshi said.

  “Boston?” I said. “You don't deserve a posting to Bhatinda. You don't even deserve a job. In fact, one could argue you don't deserve to live. You're not just a bad boss, you're a parasite: to us, to this company, to this country. Damn you.”

  I banged the management book hard on his head. Bak-shi's head was hollow, and the impact made a big noise. God, it felt good. Few people in this world get to hit their boss, but those who do will tell you it's better than sex.

  “What do you want? Do you want to destroy me?” Bakshi said, rubbing his head. “I have a family and two kids. After a lot of effort my career is going fine. My wife wants to leave me anyway. Don't destroy me, I'm human too.”

  I disagreed with Bakshi's last remark. I didn't think he was human at all.

  “Destroying you is a good option,” Vroom said, “but we have more worthwhile goals for now. I want to do a deal with you. We bury this issue and in return you do something for us.”

  “What kind of thing?” Bakshi said.

  “One, I want to have control of the call center for the next two hours. I need to get on the Tannoy,” said Vroom.

  “The one management uses to make fire-drill announcements,” I said.

  “Why? Will you announce this e-mail?” Bakshi said.

  “No, you moron. It's to save jobs at the call center. Now, can I use the Tannoy?”

  “Yes. What else?”

  “I want you to write out a resignation letter for Shyam and me. Layoffs or not, we are leaving Connections.”

  “Are you guys leaving right now?” the girls said.

  “Yes. Shyam and I are going to start a small website design business. Right, Shyam?” Vroom said.

  “Yes,” I said. Wow! I thought.

  “Good. And this time, no one will take the credit for our websites except ourselves,” Vroom said and slapped Bakshi's face. Bakshi's face turned sixty degrees from the impact. He held his cheeks but remained silent, apart from one tiny, dry sob. His facial expression had a combination of 90 percent pain and 10 percent shame.

  “May I?” I said.

  “Be my guest,” Vroom said.

  Slap! I gave Bakshi's face a good slap, too, and it swung sixty degrees in the other direction.

  “So you'll write the resignation letter, OK?” Vroom said.

  “OK,” Bakshi said, rubbing his cheek. “But Esha will delete the e-mail, right?”

  “Wait. We're not finished. Our business will require start-up capital, so we need a severance package of six months' salary. Understand?” Vroom said.

  “I can't do six months. It's unprecedented for agents,” Bakshi said.

  “New Delhi TV or Times of India, you pick,” Vroom said as he took out his phone.

  “Six months is possible. Good managers break precedents,” Bakshi said. I guess no amount of slaps could halt his jargon.

  “Nice. Now the last thing, I want you to retract the rightsizing proposal. Arrange a call with Boston. Ask them to postpone the layoffs to try a new sales-driven recovery plan for Connections.”

  “I can't do that,” Bakshi said.

  Vroom lifted his mobile phone and put it in front of Bakshi's face.

  “I'll make sure all of India knows your name by tomorrow,” Vroom said. “Listen, I don't care about this job, but there are agents with kids, families, and responsibilities in life. You can't just fire them. They are people, not resources. Now, which news channel is your favorite?”

  “Give me half an hour. I'll set up a call with Boston,” Bakshi said.

  “Good. We'll bury the e-mail. But make sure you get the hell out of this call center, this city, and this country as fast as you can. We need a new boss, a normal, decent, inspiring human being and not a slimy, bloodsucking goofball with a fancy degree.”

  Bakshi nodded while continuously wiping the sweat from his face.

  “Good. Anything else? Did you have something to ask me about my monitor?” Vroom said.

  “Monitor? What monitor?” Bakshi said.

  Chapter 33

  5:15 a.m.

  BAKSHI GAVE VROOM THE KEY to the broadcast room and then got straight on the phone to Boston to arrange a management meeting. I had never seen him work so efficiently.

  Vroom went to the broadcast room and switched on the mikes while I went to the main computer bay to check for sound quality.

  “Hello, everyone. May I have your attention, please? This is Vroom, from the strategic group.” Vroom's voice echoed through Connections and all the agents looked up at the speakers while still talking to their customers.

  “Sorry to bother you, but we have an emergency. This is about the layoffs. Can you please disconnect all your calls?” the speaker said.

  Everyone heard the word layoffs and a thousand calls ended at the same time. New calls flashed, but no one picked them up. Vroom continued:

  “Idiots have been managing this place up until now and it's because of their mistakes that more than a third of you will lose your jobs tonight. It doesn't seem fair to me, does it seem fair to you?”

  There was no response.

  “Come on, guys, I want to hear you. Do I have your support to save your jobs and this call center?”

  The agents all looked at each other, still in partial disbelief. There was a weak “yes.”

  “Louder, guys, all together. Do I have your support?” Vroom said.

  “Yes!” a collect