mountain in your plastic tray, your assignment from me this week is to read the book and mags in your spare time.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, pulling his car into Janis’ driveway.
Yes, I still live there with Karsynn.
Mika stalls the engine and turns to face me. “Thanks again, Madison.” And for a little while, his gaze lingers.
“Anytime,” I say in a stilted voice, inching out of my seat. I step out of the car, slam the door, and fly down the path.
Wrestling with the lock, I throw a glance over my shoulder.
Mika waves at me through the lightly tinted windows.
I wave back.
Six
Beep!
“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed. This is Maddy, how can I help?” I ask on autopilot.
And then the strangest thing happens. The customer actually starts spelling.
“M-y n-a-m-e i-s B-e-n W-r-i-g-h-t,” he spells. Spells!!!
W-T-F ?!?
“I w-a-n-t t-o s-p-e-a-k t-o t-h-e C-E-O,” he orders, and yes, he is still spelling.
Yeah, they all want to speak to our CEO, Siegfried Miles, like Siegfried sits around all day twiddling his thumbs, just waiting to speak to fuming customers. Siegfried has a company to run for Pete’s sake.
I give the speller the standard spiel. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wright, our CEO is unavailable to take calls, but you can write a letter and mail it to his office if you’d like.”
Not surprisingly, the speller doesn’t take this kindly.
He flips out and starts spelling again, this time an octave higher. “N-O! N-O! N-O!”
Oh my God. This guy is such a hoot!
Oddly enough, all this spelling is infectious.
On impulse, I start spelling myself, “Y-E-S Y-E-S Y-E-S.”
“M-A-N-A-G-E-R!” he yells and spells.
Uh oh, I guess he isn’t amused.
“O-K,” I say politely, not wanting to antagonize him further.
Drats! That’s too bad. I was enjoying the call and I wanted to spell some more with Mr. Wright. We were just about to get into a spelling spar and he had to go and end it.
What a buzzkill.
Oh well, hopefully I’ll get him next time. He sure broke up the monotony of my calls. How refreshing! A speller!
Time to go get The Führer.
I stride over to her cubicle and stand there until she notices me. It doesn’t take long.
“Yessssssssss?” she hisses.
“Um, I have a caller who wants to speak to a manager. And he’s very upset.”
Hillary shoots me a terse look. “For future reference, I would prefer that you phrase it like this: I have an escalation, and the caller is irate,” she snaps. “You work at a call center and I expect you to speak call center lingo!”
I stare at her, unblinking. She’s obviously barking mad.
“So tell me, what’s going on now?” Hillary’s voice is laced with irritation. “Why is the caller irate?”
I’m quite taken by the Spelling Bee, and I find myself feeling slightly protective over him. “Well, he’s actually really nice. But I think he may have some sort of speech impediment. So...um, he spells.” I cast a lopsided grin.
The Führer says nothing.
And so I carry on explaining, “At first, he wanted to speak to the CEO. I gave him the standard spiel, but he didn’t like it and spelled for a manager.”
She gnashes her teeth. “Transfer him to me. Extension 4444.”
My poor little Spelling Bee. Little does he realize what he is in for. The Führer will chew him up and spit him out like the tobacco she chews.
Sigh. He should have just stuck with me. We could’ve gone places. I just know that we could’ve formed a meaningful kinship and spelled the night away.
Reluctantly, I release the Hold button and conference the call.
“Mr. Wright, thank you for holding. I have Hillary on the line now. She’s my supervisor and she’ll be assisting you from here,” I say with a deep sadness in my voice, and drop off the line.
Bye-bye my little Spelling Bee.
Be safe, keep on spelling and buzz, buzz away.
Beep!
“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications, this is Maddy, how can I assist?”
“Hello, I’m just calling for shits and giggles. I’ve got a complex question for you, since you’re supposedly a tech whiz.”
“That I am not, but go ahead, what is your complex question sir?”
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
I consider this briefly and pose this question to Mr. Jean-Paul Sartre, “Well sir, if you did not have sexual intercourse with your wife and she’s pregnant, did she have an extramarital affair or is she just the Virgin Mary?”
Click!
We’re in Janis’ basement and as usual, Karsynn and I are glued to the tube, watching