Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,9

I promptly transfer the call to the Spanish queue.

It’s pathetic really, since I took Spanish in high school, but other than that, I can only say random Spanish words like burro (donkey), mijo (my son), vamanos (let’s go), papichulo (hot daddy), chica (girl), quien es tu papi (who’s your daddy?) and la princesa (the princess).

Oh, and I can count to ten—uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco…

Okay, I guess I can only count to five.

I am completely incapable of carrying on a conversation in Spanish. Fortunately, that’s what the Spanish queue is for and they get paid more than I do because they’re bilingual.

So, TRANSFER call.

Beep!

“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications, this is Maddy. How can I help?”

“G’day. Me name is Poida Woite. And I need some help with me password.”

How awesome! An Aussie from Down Under!

I peer at his name on my computer screen: Peter White.

“I can help Mr. White, but first—”

“Poida,” he interjects kindly. “Just call me Poida.”

“Okay, Peter,” I say amiably. “I’ll just need to ask you a couple of questions for verification.” And once that is out of the way, I tackle the task at hand. “Now you mentioned earlier on that you needed help with your password?”

“Aye mate,” he huffs in affirmation, like pirate Captain Jack Sparrow. “I’d like to change it to Inicondi88.”

“Now, Peter, let’s make sure that I’ve got this right. Is the first letter I like igloo?”

“Norrr, I as in int,” he corrects.

Int??? What the heck is int????

“Um, you mean I as in India?” I persist.

“Nyet! I as in ipple,” he says, agitation creeping into his voice.

Pause.

Now I’m even more confused. What the hell is an ipple?

“De fruit!” His voice rises with frustration. “Ipple de fruit! I for the first letter of the ilphibet!”

“Ohhhhhh.” I stifle a laugh. “A as in Apple. Yes. Gotcha! So you want your password to be Anaconda88?” I confirm.

“Ibso-bloody-lutely!” he exclaims with a mixture of relief and exasperation.

My mouth twitches at the corners.

I reckon that they don’t speak English in Down Under; they speak Strine.

Peter chuckles heartily. “Bloody hell, Sheila, I was beginning to think ye were a muppet. Ye dun’t know i dunny from i bottom dollar. More is the pity, the great Ozzie vernacular is fizzing ind only i galoot like ye ne’er tire of diddling me, mekin me seem silly as i two bob watch.”

O-kay, I didn’t understand nearly half of what he was saying. Something about a puppet, I gather.

“Puppet?” I ask perplexed. “Did you just call me a puppet?”

“Muppet.” He emits a throaty laugh. “Muppet means idiot.”

An idiot? Who is the idiot here? At least I can pronounce the letter A. I’m sorry but ‘A’ is not pronounced ‘I’.

Crikey! After that call, I have this sudden urge to throw some shrimp on the barbie. Perhaps I’ll even adopt a dingo and name him Mitch. On second thought, I’ll name him Poida.

Beep!

“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications. This is Maddy, what can I do for you today?”

“Halo. My name is Klaus Klum and I am locked out of my account,” says the caller in a heavy German accent.

Guten Tag. He hails from Doytchland!

And I’m half-wondering if he is related to Heidi Klum.

Aside from kinder, dachshund, ausfahrt, du arschgefickter hurensohn, fahrvergnügen and ich bring dich um, the only other German word I know, I learned from Heidi on Project Runway.

Oh, I can’t wait to flex my German skills. I’ve been waiting to say that word since the day I learned it on the Bravo channel.

Now is my chance. Patiently, I bide my time.

Before the call ends, Mr. Klum bellows, “Dahnk-uh shoon.”

“You’re welcome,” I say graciously. This upcoming moment is pivotal. “Thanks for calling sir and...Aufiderzein.”

I said it! What a momentous occasion!

Next time, I’ll kick it up a notch and say, “YOU’RE OUT! Aufiderzein.”

Maybe I’ll get a Russian, and we can discuss Pushkin and Matryoshka dolls.

I’m proud to say that I have quite the collection of Russian nesting dolls, which incidentally, are all made in China.

Hey, this job really isn’t so bad after all. Although I’m sitting at a tiny desk in a crappy, cramped up cubicle in a windowless call center located in Pocatello, Idaho…I feel so globalized. I am connected to the world.

Three

The Lightning Five conference room is an explosion of pink confetti; balloons emblazoned with words like ‘Congratulations!’ and ‘WOW!’ decorate every space.

Our graduation day is feeling like a slightly overplayed event, think prom night, circa 1980.

Spread out before us is a Costco sheet cake, doughnuts from Daylight Donuts, and a whole smorgasbord of