Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,16
to tend to nature’s call together.
I walk into a stall and use my elbow to shut the door behind me. Being the germ freak that I am, I tear off some toilet paper and mummify my hand so my fingers don’t touch the handle or the lock. Next, I tear off more toilet paper and strategically place it on the toilet seat before carefully setting my bum down.
Karsynn, the self-proclaimed space craft, is already hovering over her toilet. I know this for a fact because she’s hovering so high that it sounds like rain drops hitting the pavement.
Since I barely know Ingeborg, I haven’t the slightest idea what her toilet technique is.
“So how did your calls go?” Karsynn talks over the sound of her raining pee.
“Mine started off real bad, but then it got better.” I raise my voice so as to be heard over the toilets flushing around me.
Kars cries huffily, “Well mine sucked big time!”
“Ugh!” I moan peevishly. “Don’t you just hate these motion-sensored toilets?”
Suddenly, without warning or provocation, my toilet flushes.
I leap into the air like my bum’s caught on fire. “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!” I glare at my toilet reprovingly.
Oh! The nerve of it! Now I’m paranoid that some nasty toilet water has sprayed up my bum. Mental note to myself: bring baby wipes next time.
After taking care of business, I amble out of my stall and join Ingeborg and Karsynn at the sink.
Karsynn frets, “I wanted to go into Not Ready, but Hillary the Giant Not Ready Nazi was watching me.”
Ingeborg giggles. “I know, she vas vatching me too.”
“I’d be careful if I were you,” warns Kars. “I’m pretty sure she wants a piece of you.”
Ingeborg shrugs, wide-eyed with innocence. Turning to me, she asks, “Vas ze Giant Not Ready Nazi vatching you too?”
“Like a hawk,” I groan with displeasure. Then it all of a sudden occurs to me, “Um, I think we should refrain from calling her the Giant Not Ready Nazi. I mean, it’s a little too obvious, don’tcha think?”
“Ya think?” Karsynn raises a sardonic brow.
“Seriously, if she catches on, our heads could be on the chopping block.”
Kars nods. “Right. We need to be covert. Let’s come up with a code name for her.”
“How about Ze Führer?” suggests Ingeborg.
“I like that,” I say.
“Me too,” echoes Kars. “Hillary the Giant Not Ready Nazi is hereby dubbed The Führer!”
Satisfied with her code name, I’m about to wash my hands at the sink only to discover that the faucets are also motion-sensored.
Grrrrr, this is so frustrating.
I wave my hands under the faucets and nothing happens.
After several attempts of frantic waving, the water gushes out for two seconds and then shuts off. I reach for the soap and guess what? The soap dispensers are also motion-activated.
What a fiasco! Giving my hands a proper wash is turning out to be a painful and time consuming ordeal.
After spending five minutes doing a Hokey Pokey dance with the uncooperative faucets, we finally leave the restroom. I glance at my watch. Crapola. There’s only four more minutes left on my break.
Some break.
Happily, we spot Mika at the water cooler.
“Mi-ka!” we call out to our brother.
He turns at our exclamation and Ingeborg trips prettily to his side. “Hey.” He smiles at his Bulgarian beauty; she beams at him beatifically. After that adorable exchange, he turns his attention to the American rejects.
“How’s the new job go-ing?” taunts Kars.
“It’s go-ing,” he replies with a half-smile.
“Oh! Be right back!” I sprint to my cubicle. Hurriedly, I grab my water bottle and dash back.
Time is of essence.
When I arrive at the water cooler, Karsynn and Ingeborg are noticeably absent. Mika is the last man standing.
He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Ingeborg went to check out Karsynn’s Aerogarden. She, um, loves to cook with basil.”
“Oh.” I fill up my BPA-free bottle with some Mount Olympus spring water.
He clears his throat. “So...don’t forget to meet me for lunch at the cafeteria.”
“I’ll be there,” I say without meeting his eyes.
Glancing at my watch, I gasp in horror. I have to be back on the phone in T-minus ten seconds. “Later!” I abandon him with a toss of my head and scurry back to my cell.
The cafeteria is packed, but I spot Mika instantly; he’s seated at a table, sipping on a Coke. Regular, not diet—my kind of guy.
Our eyes meet across the room and his face breaks into a grin.