Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,27
with an expression of an axe murderer.
All she did was scream, “A little to the left, a little to the right.”
In a futile attempt to redeem herself, Kars begins handing out bottles of Fiji water. “You two take it easy. I’ll be arranging the furniture.”
“Go right ahead.” I lie lifeless on the floor, while Kars shuffles a coffee table around me.
Mika hauls himself off the countertop. “I’ll help you out,” he offers and gets right to work.
I refuse to budge. My joints have swelled up so much it looks like I’m suffering from elephantiasis.
And when I move my knees, I hear a “Snap, Crackle, and Pop” sound.
I’ll surely need to see a chiropractor after this debacle.
On a positive note, this whole experience has given me a newfound respect for Two Men and a Truck Co. and Starving Students Moving Company.
Fully exhausted after the Big Move, we gather in the kitchen to replenish our fluids.
“Mika, we want to treat you to a nice meal for helping us. Pick a restaurant,” I say, crossing my arms.
Mika mimics me. He folds his arms across his chest and leans his sexy, sweaty body against the refrigerator.
“Nah, you girls don’t have to buy me dinner. It was nothing.”
Kars grumbles, “Just tell us where you want to go eat! We’re friggin’ starving here.”
“In that case, what about IHOP?” he suggests.
“IHOP? You want pancakes for dinner?” I ask, just to be sure and he nods. “Mika,” I say mildly, “I love breakfast any time of the day, but we want to take you to a nice restaurant, somewhere slightly more upscale. I’m sorry, but the International House of Pancakes is not a restaurant. It’s a diner. And we can make you pancakes any day.”
“Yeah! Now hurry up and pick a nice restaurant.” Kars taps her foot impatiently.
“How about Red Lobster? Ingeborg’s working there tonight, and I have to pick her up after her shift ends.”
“Red Lobster it is.” I slide off the kitchen countertop.
Mika looks from me to Kars. “Do I have time to go home and take a shower?”
“NO!” we holler in unison.
Red Lobster is an absolute madhouse and the flustered hostess informs us it’ll be a forty minute wait. Figures; it’s a Saturday night. So we sit and wait like hungry wolves.
I spot Ingeborg at the bar and nudge Mika, gesturing in her direction. But he already sees her.
Gak! My mind has a hard time parsing the sequence of events that follow. Ingeborg is flirting with some old geezer. Now, geriatric geezers can be vaguely attractive, especially if they resemble silver haired foxes the likes of Richard Gere, Liam Neeson, Colin Firth, Rufus Sewell, Eric Bana and Clooney. Heck, I’ll even lump centenarian Clint Eastwood into that category.
But this particular geezer isn’t a silver haired fox. In fact, he’s a hairless Sharpei, and his splotchy paws are mauling the fair Ingeborg.
Sharpei leans forward and whispers something in Ingeborg’s ear. Giggling like a schoolgirl, she spills onto his lap.
The Sharpei morphs into a massage monster, squeezing and kneading her flesh like dough. And sweet Ingeborg seems to be enjoying it in a very uninhibited way.
I stare agog.
Kars is gawking.
Mika’s face is ashen.
At once, he springs to his feet and advances on them.
“Uh oh,” I groan.
Mika stands rigidly behind Ingeborg and the Sharpei, his jaw clenched and his fists balled.
“Yeah! You go get him, Mika! Deck him! Pummel and pumice him to a pulp! Rearrange his face!” Karsynn riles.
I shush her. “Kars! This isn’t funny!”
Mika’s face tightens as they continue with their shenanigans.
I can’t believe it! Ingeborg and Sharpei are so enamored with each other that they’re totally oblivious to Mika.
After an excruciatingly painful minute, he taps Ingeborg on her shoulder. She cranes her neck and nearly jumps out of her skin.
“Busted,” blurts Kars.
“She’s got Mika,” I say, clearly stupefied. “What is she doing with some dude who looks like a cross between an old dyke and a Sharpei?”
“Who knows? If she wanted to date an aging, bitchy lezzie, she could’ve just hooked up with Hillary.”
Mika and Ingeborg appear to be in a heated argument.
I strain my ears to listen, but can barely make out a word.
Seeing his opening for escape, Sharpei scampers off with his tail tucked between his legs. How cowardly!
Meanwhile, Ingeborg and Mika are still squabbling like a pair of seagulls. Suddenly, Ingeborg spins on her heels and darts into the kitchen, and poor Mika just stands there, looking positively crushed. Eventually, he makes his way back to us.