Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,24
ways than one. And it solidified my aspirations of becoming a writer.
Just like my dad.
But things don’t always go as planned. Sometimes life throws you curve balls, and you either learn to swerve them, or hit them like there’s no tomorrow.
At this point in my life, I’m just swerving.
I breathe out a heavy sigh. Resigning myself, I pick up my cell and call my mom. It’s been over two months since I’ve left home, yet it never occurred to me to call her sooner.
One summer, I went away to Young Writers Camp.
Oh I know. I was a nerd with a capital N, and that camp was nerd proof.
When I arrived home, my mom was oblivious to the fact that I had been gone for an entire month; the whole time I was away at nerd camp, she assumed that school was still in session and that she just happened to miss me at home. For a month. Go figure.
It’s not like her head was in the clouds or anything like that; she was simply married to her job. While her practice flourished, our relationship wilted.
The only time we spent together was in her Audi, since she chauffeured me to school every morning. During those brief moments, I could chat with her, tell her about my day, ask her about hers…just be with her.
But all that changed when I turned fourteen. She dragged me to the DMV, signed me up for a hardship license, and that was the end of that.
Our time together—finito. Our relationship—kaput-o.
Although my mom’s still around, I feel like I’ve lost her. It’s as if I’ve lost both my parents. What can I say? I’m an orphan, so to speak. Little orphan Annie.
I press the phone to my ear and after a couple of rings, my mom answers, “Hi, dear!” Before I can get a word in edgewise, she launches off, “Honey, you won’t believe this! I’m dating now, he’s an Ob-Gyn. Vince works at the UC Medical Center and I’ve only been seeing him for a month, but I think he’s prefect and—”
I cut her off. “Wait. Did you just say he’s an Ob-Gyn?” I ask, feeling somewhat disturbed by this. “Mom, please don’t tell me you’re dating a Vagina Doctor.”
“Oh, Madison!” she scoffs. “There’s nothing wrong with male Ob-Gyns.”
“Err, yeah there is. Mom, any man who chooses a profession that involves shoving his hand down a woman’s pickachu on a daily basis is seriously a pervo. It’s legalized, medical rape!”
“It’s called a pap smear,” she scolds. “And when was the last time you had one?”
I sigh dramatically. “Mom, I really don’t want some stranger scraping my pikachu.”
“I’ll do it,” she insists. “Make an appointment with my clinic.”
“Mom, stop. Let’s discuss Vince again. What is he like?”
“Ahh, Vince is a wonderful man; a divorcee, no kids. Anyway honey, I’m sorry I’ve missed you at home these past few weeks. I’ve just been so caught up with work—and with Vince of course,” she adds impishly.
See, she doesn’t even realize I’m still in The Valley of Potatoes.
“Mom, I’m still in Idaho visiting Kars, remember? And guess what?” I pause for effect. “I’ve got a job here!”
“Well that’s great news honey,” she trills with pleasure. “At a newspaper?”
I clear my throat. “No. At a call center.”
“Honey, the line is fuzzy. All I got was call something.” Then she emits a tinkling laugh. “Madison, please don’t tell me you’re a call girl. I raised you better than that.”
“Ha-ha mom. Very funny. No. I am not a prostitute. I work at a call center.” After a beat, I add, “As a customer service rep.”
There is an excruciating pause, a silence bordering on awkward. Sheesh! I’m beginning to think she’d be happier if I were a call girl. After all, hookers aren’t reviled as much as call center reps, even though both professions offer the same service.
Oral service. Sorry, but it begged to be said!
Her voice drips with disappointment. “But Madison, why?”
“Well, it’s a job, albeit a thankless one. But a job nonetheless, and I needed one. I was tired of sitting around doing nothing. Plus, it’s not that bad. Really. I’ve even learned a lot,” I gab, trying to remain upbeat and positive for my sake and hers.
She perks up. “So tell me, what have you learned?”
“Patience. You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve learned to control my tongue.”
This elicits a sardonic harrumph from her. “What about the people who work there? What are they like?”