Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,68

and Cinnabons.”

Seventeen

New Year’s Eve was another anticlimactic day, and January flew by in a frantic whir, by far the busiest month of the year. We were slammed with call after call, and February couldn’t creep in soon enough. And before I could even say, “Look out!” Valentine’s Day rears its ugly head.

Someday, I need to do my civic duty and petition for Congress to have Valentine’s Day expunged from the calendar. Love Sucks Day is what they should call it. This dreadful and emotionally damaging day strikes me with fear...fear of being alone, fear of discovering that nobody loves me.

Thinking back, I used to look forward to Valentine’s Day. My dad always had red roses and Godiva chocolates delivered to my classroom. His sweet gesture made all the other kids green with envy. The enclosed hand written card always said: “From your secret admirer,” but I recognized my dad’s spidery handwriting.

Every Valentine morning, I have fond memories of waking up to the sound of his chipper voice singing this beautiful song:

There is beauty all around, when there’s love at home;

There is joy in ev’ry sound, when there’s love at home,

Peace and plenty here abide, smiling sweet on ev’ry side;

Time doth softly, sweetly glide, when there’s love at home.

There was plenty of love in my home. But that was then. Now I’m just a miserable cow on V Day.

As I drag myself into work, I pass by a repulsive bouquet of blood red roses at the front desk, waiting to be picked up by some lucky gal.

I exhale sharply as I pass by one heart shaped balloon after another. Finally, I sink into my seat with a dramatic sigh.

Oh! What’s this?

A red gift box is sitting on my desk.

Who could this be from?

I glance furtively around.

Very carefully, I untie the pretty sash and lift the lid open.

Be still my beating heart...lying inside is the most romantic gift ever. Gush. I find myself gazing adoringly at a heart shaped cinnamon roll.

There’s a card inside too. As I slide it out of the red envelope, a smile touches my lips. A cute little cinnamon stick waves at me with a gloved hand. I gently flip the card open and see Mika’s neat, cursive handwriting:

A sweet treat for my sweet friend

Yours, Mika

Truong pops his head out of his cubicle. “Is that from my Mikquisha?” He points to the box and I nod.

“You bitch!” he squeals, feigning outrage. But I can tell that he’s happy for me from the twinkle in his eye.

I babble happily, “He signed the card ‘Yours, Mika’.”

I know it’s silly. But I ascribe all sorts of meaning to it. Jason Mraz’s I’m Yours anthem replays in my lovesick head. I’m so elated that everything seems so rosy, so blissful.

In a hazy love trance, I log in to my phone.

Beep!

“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications. This is Maddy. How can I help?” I ask jubilantly.

Tra La La. Valentine’s Day is such a wonderful day.

I even remember to use the Telemarketing Sales Rule script, which is the Permission to Sell Script, or the PiSS script, as I call it. Quite honestly, I often forget to mention that dreaded script, even though they drill it into my head to Sell, Sell, Sell!

At first, the mere act of pitching a sales offer was terrifyingly painful. But over time...well, let’s just say I’m numb to the pain now. It’s do or die.

So I do.

Half the time at least, just enough so I don’t get myself fired.

The caller informs me that she’s having problems accessing the internet.

“Ma’am, I’d be happy to assist you with that. Now, while I’m pulling up your information, if I see a product or a service that may be beneficial to you, is it okay if I mention it at the end of the call?” I ask, cringing at the same time.

Her response comes in a puzzled tone. “Whad’ya mean?”

“Exactly what I just said,” I say, keeping poised. “If I see a product or a service that may be beneficial to you, is it okay if I mention it at the end of the call?”

“Oh dear,” she apologizes, guilt co-mingling with frustration creeping into her voice. “Sugar, I still haven’t the slightest idea whatcha harping aboot.”

I repeat the TSR script for the third time, but this time around, I word it a teeny bit differently. “Ma’am, if there is a product or a service that may help you save time and money, is it all right if I tell you about it later