is bringing lunch for us tomorrow.”
“Sweet! I won’t need to go to the cafeteria, which means I won’t have to deal with that hoochie mama.” Abruptly, Kars exclaims, “Hey! You changed your ring tone.”
I shrug it off as if to say, “Yeah, what’s the big deal?”
“Oh, Maddy, you’re such a dingbat! Mika has been hot, hot, hot for you the whole time. You’re the one who’s cold, Miss Ice Queen.”
“I’m not cold!” I cry defensively. “Okay. Maybe I had my guard up a little at first, but I almost pulled the trigger. I almost told him I was more than a bit in love with him.”
“What? When?”
“On Christmas.”
“Well why didn’t you?” she counters.
“Ingeborg’s vodka. It was my best friend and my worst enemy. It emboldened me, but before I could pour my heart out, I puked my guts out,” I mutter glumly, still burning from shame at the memory.
Karsynn collapses onto my shoulder, giggling. “How come I wasn’t there to hold back your hair?”
“Hullo, don’t you remember? Kars, you were hunched over the toilet all night. And not only did I hold your hair back, I braided it too.”
Kars scrunches up her face. “I don’t recall.” After a beat, she asks, “What kind of braid?”
I bite back a smile. “Princess Leia.”
“Aww,” she gushes. “You’re such a good friend, Mads.”
“You bet I am.”
We walk in companionable silence.
After an unreadable minute, Kars says quietly, “Just talk to Mika. You’ll see…everything will work out just fine.”
I admire her cock-eyed optimism. “I’ll think about it,” I say, just so she’ll drop the subject.
Beep!
“Thank you for calling Lightning Speed Communications, my name is Maddy. How can I help?”
“Hi, Samantha, my username is not working,” says the caller and, I don’t even bother correcting him.
Sigh. I gave up a long, long time ago. I’ve had customers call me Theresa, Sylvia, Amy, Amanda, Kimmy, Natalie, Susan and Jessica. And none of those names sound remotely like Maddy.
“I can help you with that sir,” I say and take him through the whole authentication rigmarole.
Once that is out of the way, I probe, “Sir, what username did you type in?”
“Ilovebodyodour67,” he says in a kind and gentle voice.
A loud snort escapes me. I compare his username against our records. “Sir, you are typing in the right username. Can you please make sure that it’s in lowercase letters?”
A beat of silence ensues.
Finally, he speaks. “I can’t.”
I blink. “Huh? Why not?”
“All the keys on my keyboard are in uppercase letters.”
I rub my temples. “Sir, can you please make sure that your Caps Lock is not turned on.”
A beat. Another beat.
“I’m so sorry, Samantha, but what do you mean by that?”
Beam me up, Scotty.
I help navigate him through that simple task, and it literally takes him twenty minutes to turn the Caps Lock off. Regrettably, that doesn’t fix the problem.
“Sir, when you type your username, do any numbers appear?”
“No numbers are showing up. But I am typing 67.”
“Okay sir, that means your Num Lock key is turned off and I need you to turn it back on.”
“How do I do that?” he asks in a clueless voice.
I steel myself and walk him through that very task. But it is akin to leading a blind donkey out of a cave.
“I still don’t see it,” he tells me for the umpteenth time.
“It’s on the right-hand side of your keyboard, right above the number seven.”
“I’m so sorry, Samantha, but I still don’t see it.”
“Sir, I’m really trying here—” I break off and inhale sharply.
“Don’t worry, Samantha, I know you can help me fix this. So please don’t give up on me. You can do it. I know you can.”
My voice falters. “Sir, I appreciate your vote of confidence, but there’s only so much I can do.”
“What would you like me to do, Samantha? I’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” he says obediently.
I grit my teeth. “Sir, can you please just open your eyes and look?”
“Wait! Is it this Num Lock key?” he cries excitedly.
Relief washes over me. “Yes! There is only one Num Lock key. Push that key,” I say to the Numskull.
“But the green light above it is now turned on.”
Closing my eyes, I mutter, “Yes sir, it’s supposed to be.”
“Oh!” he says, seemingly surprised.
“Okay sir, you’re all set now. Is there anything else?” I ask, ready to wrap up the call.
“Yes, Samantha, as a matter of fact, there is. If I need to call back with a problem, how late are you open?”
“We’re open twenty-four seven,” I inform him briskly.
“Huh? I’m