One Night at the Call Center Read online

  He paused and looked at me. His eyes were wet, brown and kind like a puppy's. I could see why girls flocked to him. It was the eyes.

  “I'm going to ask you a question. Will you answer it honestly?” Vroom said.

  “OK.”

  “Are you upset she's getting married? I know you have feelings for her.”

  “No,” I said and started laughing. “I just find it a bit strange. But I wouldn't say I'm upset. That's too strong a word. It's not like we're together any more. No, I'm not upset upset.”

  Vroom waited while I continued to laugh exaggeratedly. When I'd stopped he said, “OK, don't bullshit me. What happened to your re-proposal plans?”

  I remained silent.

  “It's OK, you can tell me.”

  I sighed, “Well, of course I feel for her, but they're just vestigial feelings.”

  “Vesti what?”

  “Like vestigial organs. They serve no purpose or value. But they can give you a pain in the appendix. It's the same with my feelings for Priyanka. I'm supposed to have moved on, but obviously I haven't. Meanwhile, Mr. Indian in Seattle comes and gives me a kick in the rear end,” I said.

  “Talk to her. Don't tell me you're not going to,” Vroom said and exhaled two smoke rings.

  “I was planning to. I thought we'd submit the website user manual and hopefully that would have made it easier for Boston to approve my promotion. How did I know there would be milk cake distribution tonight? How was it by the way? I didn't touch it.”

  “The milk cake was great. Never sulk when food is at stake, dude. Anyway, screw that. Listen, you still have some time. She's only just said yes.”

  “I hope so. Though even as team leader it's hard to compete with Mr. Microsoft,” I said.

  We remained silent for a few more seconds. Vroom spoke again.

  “Yeah, man. Girls are strategic. They talk about love and romance and all that crap, but when it comes to doing the deal, they'll choose the fattest chicken,” he said, and bunched up the leaf ashtray until it looked like a bowl.

  “I guess I can only become fat, not a fat chicken,” I said.

  “Yeah, you need to be fat, fresh, and fluffy. Girls know their stuff. That's why you shouldn't feel so upset. We're not good husband material, just accept it.”

  “Thanks, Vroom, that really makes my day,” I said. I did agree with him though. It was evolution. Maybe nature wanted dimple-cheeked, software-geek mini Ganesh babies. They were of far more value to society than depressed, good-for-nothing junior Shyams.

  “And anyway, it's the girl who always gets to choose.

  Men propose and women accept or, as in many cases, reject it.”

  It's true. Girls go around rejecting men like it's their birthright. They have no idea how much it hurts us. I read once—or maybe saw it during one of my Discovery Channel phases—that the reason for this is that it takes a lot of effort for the female to bear their offspring. Hence they choose their mates carefully. Meanwhile, men dance around, spend cash, make them laugh, write stupid poems, anything to win them over. The only species where courting works in reverse is the sea horse. Instead of the female, the male sea horse bears the offspring: they carry baby sea horse eggs in their pockets. Guess what? The female sea horses are always hitting on the males, while the latter pucker their noses and get to pick the cutest female. I wish I were a sea horse. How hard can it be to carry a couple of eggs in a backpack?

  Vroom interrupted my thoughts.

  “But who knows? Priyanka isn't like other girls, or maybe she is after all. Either way, don't give up, man. Try to get her back.” Vroom patted my shoulder in encouragement.

  “Speaking of getting her back, shouldn't we be heading back to the bay?” I said and looked at my watch. “It's 11:45 p.m.

  As we returned from the parking lot, we passed the Western Computers main bay. The main bay sounded like a noisy school, except the kids weren't talking to one another, but to customers. Monitoring problems, viruses, strange error messages—there was nothing Connections could not help you with.

  “Still looks busy,” I said.

  “Not at all. People have told me call traffic is down forty percent. I think they'll cut a lot of staff or, worst-case scenario, cut everyone and shift the clients to the center based in Bangalore.”

  “Bangalore? What will happen here?” I said.

  “They'll close this poorly managed madhouse down. What else? That's what happens when people like Bakshi spend half their time playing politics with other managers,” Vroom said. He spotted a good-looking girl in the Western Computers bay and pointed her out to me.

  “Close down!” I echoed after studying the pretty girl for half a second. “Are you serious, what will happen to the hundreds of jobs here?”

  “Like they care. You think Bakshi cares?” he shrugged his lanky shoulders.

  “Shit happens in life. It could happen tonight,” Vroom said as we reached the WASG.

  Chapter 9

  12:15 a.m.

  THE SYSTEMS GUY WAS UNDER THE TABLE AGAIN.

  “No calls yet. They've asked for a senior engineer,” Priyanka said.

  “It's an external fault. Some cables are damaged, I think. This area of Gurgaon is going nuts with all the building work,” the systems guy said as he emerged from under the table.

  “Does Bakshi know?” I said.

  “I don't know,” Priyanka said.

  Vroom and I sat down at our desk.

  “It's not too bad. Nice break,” Esha said as she filed her nails with a weirdly shaped nail cutter.

  Priyanka's cellphone began to ring, startling everyone.

  “Who's calling you so late?” Radhika said, still knitting her scarf.

  “It's long distance, I think,” Priyanka said and smiled.

  “Ooooh!” Esha squealed, like a two-year-old on a bouncy castle. What's the big deal about a long-distance phone call? I thought.

  “Hi, Ganesh. I've just switched my phone on,” Priyanka said. “I can't believe you called so soon.”

  I couldn't hear Ganesh's response, thank god.

  “Fifteen times? I can't believe you tried my number fifteen times … so sorry,” Priyanka said, looking idiotic with happiness.

  “Yes, I'm at work. But it's really chaotic today. The systems are down … Hello? … How come you're working on Thanksgiving? Oh, nice of the Indians to offer to work … hello?” Priyanka said.

  “What happened?” Esha said.

  “There's hardly any network,” Priyanka said, shaking her phone as if that would improve the reception.

  “We're in the basement. Nothing comes into this black hole,” Vroom said. He was surfing the Internet, and was on the Formula I website.

  “Use the landline,” Esha said, pointing to the spare phone on our desk. Every team in Connections had a spare independent landline at their desk for emergency use. “Tell him to call on the landline.”

  “Here?” Priyanka asked, looking to me for permission.

  Normally this would be unthinkable, but our systems were down so it didn't really matter. Also, I didn't want to look like a sore loser, preventing a new couple from starting their romance.

  I nodded and pretended to be absorbed by my computer screen. As the ad hoc team leader, I had some influence. I could approve personal calls and listen in on any line on the desk through my headset. However, I couldn't listen in on the independent emergency phone. Not unless I went under the table and tapped it.

  Tap the landline, a faint voice echoed in my head.

  “No, it's wrong,” I said.

  But I could still hear one side of the conversation.

  “Hello … Ganesh, call the landline … yes, 22463463 and 11 for Delhi… Call after ten minutes, our boss might be doing his rounds soon … I know ten minutes is six hundred seconds, I'm sure you'll survive.” She laughed uncontrollably and hung up. When women laugh nonstop, they're flirting.

  “He sounds so cuuute,” Esha said, stretching the last word to fiv