Creative Corner,  Writings

A.J. The phone operator

            3pm and the work day just begins now for A.J. The senior manager of the telephone operated survey company that has been his source of income for the past 20 years. 20 years of sitting at home in his office, equipped with the newest gadgets to ensure the best telephone, internet and survey connections are available to him. Everything and anything that could ensure his success at the company has been invested in, everything except noise-proof building material that made up the ceiling of his basement home office and the advancement of science for the prevention of his dwindling hearing.
            A.J. is starting to not hear the feet stomping in his two storey home, but promptly at 4:45pm the first set of feet make their way noisily into the house and up the stairs. His boss has already mentioned the noise can be heard over the phone and it’s not acceptable in the work environment they chose to work in. Unfortunately, since he cannot hear it himself, he cannot tell his teenage son to quiet down.
            At 6pm the next set of feet make their way through the house with such ferocity that his boss, connected via the company’s internal phone system can hear it as clearly as A.J talking into the mouth piece. The boss is getting tired of mentioning this to A.J., his job is on the line. He writes an instant message through the internal communication system, notifying him of the continuous nuisance.
            As A.J. reads this message he is just on the phone with one of his new employees, someone who seems to have forgotten or never learned how to use a phone properly and keep her voice airy and friendly. He doesn’t understand her technical problems. He has no patience for persons, who think this is easy work. If this was so easy, then he would not have his mid-shift heartburn. Maybe another shot of whiskey will ease the burning or at least will ease his perception of the burning.
            A soft knock comes from the office door as he just finished swallowing and hiding the bottle back in his secret bottom right-hand desk drawer. He is still on the phone with this employee, rattling off the company-approved training speech, which has him feeling the burn in his chest again, since he is of the opinion that no two people learn the same way. The head of his wife pokes through the ajar door, wrinkling her nose at the lingering smell of exhaled whiskey breath and her face turns to stone: “You drinking again?” she asked in a nasal voice.
            A.J. doesn’t move, he did not hear her as he is about to wrap up this conversation with the employee, who thinks she has to say anything, but she is supposed to listen.
            A tap on the shoulder, “You coming or not? Dinner is getting cold”. The advantage of working from home is having a home-cooked meal ready at the usual dinner hour, which coincides with his “lunch” break. “And by the way, I can smell the booze lingering in the stale air in here. I hope you picked up the dry cleaning this morning, your daughter needs her costume for the dance recital tomorrow and I still have to make the adjustments tonight, she has lost all that weight. A.J….?”

            He did not pick up the dry cleaning, he forgot. He thought today was Monday and not Tuesday. This will not go over well with the women in this house.