Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,5

me.”

My face twists into a Cheshire cat grin. I find myself bubbling and fizzing with joy.

Just then I spot Mika and Ingeborg holding hands as they make their way across the parking lot. They look intimate. He whispers something in her ear and she laughs, nuzzling against his chest.

POP! The bubbles burst and the smile drains from my face.

“I guess Mr. Belgium is taken,” Kars states the obvious.

I stare forlornly at the beautiful couple. “Guess so. Anyway, who am I kidding? I can never compete with Ingeborg. She’s so organic-ly and rustic-ly beautiful. Like an Anthro model strolling barefoot through a field of wildflowers. Me? I’m just plain ol’ boring Maddy.”

“You’re cute!” she bleats. “You are. You look like a pretty Dutch milkmaid. In clogs. Milking a cow in a red barn.”

“Thanks Kars,” I say with a hint of sarcasm. “I feel so much better now knowing that I look like a dowdy milkmaid.”

She thumps my back. “Just kidding. Actually, you look a little like whatsherface, that chickadee from 500 Days of Summer.”

“I wish…” I sigh wistfully.

My gaze follows the couple and I catch Mika planting a quick kiss on Ingeborg’s bee-stung lips. “She’s a knockout. Heck, she even puts Gisele Bündchen to shame.”

“Well at least you have a prettier name than her. Jeez Louise, Ingeborg? What the hell were her parents thinking? They were naming their daughter for Pete’s sake, not an android. C’mon, what’d they name her brother? Cyborg?”

“It’s probably a pretty name in Europe…just lost in translation here.”

Suddenly, Karsynn lowers her voice and her demeanor turns dark and sinister. “Bwah ha ha ha. My name is Igor Draganov, descendant of Ingeborg Draganov and I VILL BREAK YOU!” she intones in a heavy Russian accent.

Like mean schoolgirls, we explode into a fit of giggles.

Karsynn drapes her arm around my shoulder. “You know, I’ve always wanted to say that.”

We set off down the pavement, tripping merrily over tiny cracks on the sidewalk. Ah...thank goodness for best friends.

The next several weeks of training seem to fly by. Kars, Mika, Ingeborg and I continue to sit in the same row, and the four of us have developed an easygoing, relaxed sort of comradeship.

In spite of myself, Ingeborg has quickly grown on me. She can be a tad whiny at times, but I can’t begrudge her. She’s sugar, spice, and everything nice, with an extra heavy dose of naiveté.

She’s Phoebe from Friends, and who wouldn’t want a Phoebe in their circle of friends?

I’ve come to understand why Mika is completely smitten by her. Because I surely am.

And Mika has been a huge help. He picks up all the training material in a snap, aces the troubleshooting exercises and blitzes through the exams.

As for me, I barely scrape through. I hate exams.

I hate the pressure of cramming everything in, and having to spit it all out at a moment’s notice, so sitting next to Mika has come in handy. Whenever something is too ‘technical,’ all I have to do is turn to Mika, and he graciously obliges.

I’ve learned that Mika is still in college. After high school, he took some time off to backpack round Asia and Europe. And he’s now in his junior year at Idaho State U, pursuing an undergrad degree in civil and environmental engineering.

He’s a green-eyed stud with a green heart.

Every day that I’m in class, I’m keenly aware of his presence, my heart having a tendency to leap whenever I watch him at odd moments of the day. Like right now…

Abruptly, I’m jolted out of my reverie when I hear someone in class calling his name.

Dammit. I’m falling hard for this guy.

But there’s no harm in just looking. Right?

Sometime later, my eyes gravitate back; I find myself studying his prominent, chiseled cheekbones. I’m being extra discreet, when suddenly he looks up and catches my eye.

Flustered, I focus all my attention on Glenn.

I need to put a kibosh on this. I must stop obsessing over this man. Pssh! Who needs men?

They’re just extra baggage, merely placed here on earth to help women procreate.

“I am a woman of substance,” I chant in my head.

After class, Mika disarms me with his sexy, boyish grin. “See ya, Maddy.”

“Bye!” I say with feigned indifference, but inside my heart is lurching into somersaults. Team China Olympic acrobatic flips.

Sigh. I certainly don’t need a man, but I’d be much happier if I had one. Especially one like Mika.

On the last week of training, Glenn the bland trainer drops the stinkin’ S bomb on us. “Class,