The Call Centre Operative
A Story Every Day in 2024 April 16th 107/366
Rebecca liked her job because you never knew who you were going to encounter in that snapshot you had of someone's life. She often speculated on what room they were in when they answered the phone.
It wasn't the most exciting job, working for Heating World, but she could leave it and pick it up again without a thought about work in between.
Or so it was usually.
*
"Hello, is that Mrs Horton?" Rebecca asked.
An old lady, answered, dully with no intonation.
Rebecca launched cheerfully into her preamble about who she was, why she was calling and asked if they had a problem with their heating.
"Yes" was the monotone answer.
Rebecca sensed reticence but was hoping that she would perhaps be able to provide some more details: "Error codes or flashing lights?"
At last, a spark of life.
"Oh yes," Mrs Horton said." I'll pass you over to my husband," and Rebecca was regaled with the sound of an exchange between wife and husband, snatches of "woman about the boiler" and "error codes" and "wants details."
A man came onto the line.
"Yes?" he said, loudly and sharply.
Rebecca explained again who she was and details she needed.
"What?" Said with unneeded aggression, Rebecca thought and could she detect a lack of clear pronunciation in his diction? Drink? A stroke? She wasn't sure.
More slowly, she repeated her request but Mr Horton was belligerent.
"Err codes? What?"
And then, still shouting, he diverted his attention to his wife who had put him in this position in the first place. Rebecca was subjected to listening to his scorn and his derision and his anger as he railed at his wife, her soft mumblings barely discernible.
Mrs Horton returned, shaken, her sniffs discernible despite trying to stifle them.
"I'm sorry," she said, softly. "It's been a struggle."
"It's okay, Mrs Horton. No worries."
In that moment, Rebecca's heart swelled with feeling for this woman and gently, she guided her to the information needed.
Never had Rebecca been more conscious of the fact that moments later, she would be leaving Mrs Horton there.
On her own.
With him.
And that she was powerless to do anything.
***
366 words
I work in an office and often have to make calls, and I find myself, as a storyteller, venturing into thoughtful meanderings, where I wonder about the intricacies of the lives of the many people I encounter.
Sometimes I have calls similar to this that upset me, when I know that the person at the other end is in a situation which is not dire enough for it to be an emergency or dangerous, but is uncomfortable to end at that point and I feel completely helpless and unable to help that person once contact has ended.
Horrible.
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107/366
About the Creator
Rachel Deeming
Mum, blogger, crafter, reviewer, writer, traveller: I love to write and I am not limited by form. Here, you will find stories, articles, opinion pieces, poems, all of which reflect me: who I am, what I love, what I feel, how I view things.
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Comments (10)
That sounds so hard! The poor woman 😔
Sympathy for Mrs. Horton surges through me, though she is but a figment of your imagination!
Found this truly terrible. Makes you wonder how horrid he is when there’s nobody around to listen to what he’s saying. This was painful to read but absolutely on point. Your writing is brill.
Such a terrible dynamic and sad dilemma. I hate to think how often this probably happens. I’m sure it’s quite distressing when you encounter these situations and are unable to help. Very well done, Rachel!
Cranky old man!
I worked in a call center for 11 years and I can absolutely relate. We provided captions for the deaf and hard of hearing, so essentially we were observers, never allowed to interfere in any way, even if we knew a crime were being committed. Sometimes calls were pleasant. Mostly they were very boring, and sometimes they were aggravating, disgusting, sad, or horrifying. Loneiness, abuse, desperation, ignorance. Insights into lives and lifestyles that we never wanted. Predators targeting the elderly with various scams. I once listened to a woman talk about what it was like to sit with her husband for the last 36 hours of his life, and then a while longer after she knew he had died. That was almost more than I could take. For many of us, listening to the lives of people who do little if anything more than wake up, eat toast or soup (anything cheap), and stare at the television, with little to no human contact, no activity, nothing going on in their lives. Twice I heard about meth dealers discussing their business. One of those involved how he made it but his 10 year old son handled sales. Once I listened to someone discussing carnal acts involving children. There are things you can't unhear, but you really wish you could.
Anyone who makes these kind of calls has encountered this and experienced the sense of helplessness that you have so gracefully evoked in this story. Your empathy really shines through in your writing and does you credit, Rachel.
Situations like these are so upsetting, leaving one feeling helpless. So many people stay with their abusers for so many reasons. If only we could save them all. In the end, they mostly have to save themselves, hopefully with help. Maybe these jobs should have a plan to alert somebody without putting workers in a position to feel that way.
I found this when working for Betterware (yep...did that) and when working in a call centre. You hit the nail square on the head with this little tale and I feel for the old lady and for the call handler, because it can be debiliating and stay with you when you know there's nothing really you can do, but that maybe you should. It's a tricky thing. Loved the story, but not the harsh truth behind it! Well done, Chum-a-lum-lee!
If I were you, I'd call the domestic abuse hotline and report him. We never really know what goes on behind closed doors or in this case, at the other end of the line. Loved your story!