Written when I was at 192... funny really reading this over 20 years later as it was one of the most enjoyable jobs I ever had... I guess on this day I really must have been having a bad day...
Just Work
I hate my job.
I sit, everyday, wishing I wasn’t so fucking lazy, wishing I could get motivated, wishing I could break out of the fucking rut I’m in.
I hate my job.
My mind wanders, remembering what I’ve done, where I’ve been, what I’ve seen. I wonder how the fuck I’ve ended up here.
I hate my job.
I look at the screen as the call comes in, I adjust my position and spread my hands over the keyboard.
‘…which name please.’
A nasal sounding North Manchester accent cut in. ‘It’s Jimmy’s mate.’
‘In which town.’
‘It’s Jimmy’s’
‘Jimmy’s in which town please,’ I close my eyes and curse in my mind, I need to get out.
‘Jimmy’s mate, on the main road.’
‘Yeah, but which town?’
‘Jimmy’s mate, in Failsworth.’
I breathe a sigh of relief, ‘Failsworth, thank you.’ I enter the information and watch the computer carry out its search. No trace, ‘Sorry I’ve got nothing called Jimmys in Failsworth.’
‘What? You must, it’s Jimmy’s, Jimmy’s Off Licence, on the main road, opposite the pub. He’s been there years you must have the number.’
‘Sorry, there’s nothing called Jimmy’s listed.’
‘No mate, its not called Jimmy’s, it’s where Jimmy works.’
‘I need the name of the off licence, not the name of who works there.’
‘Come on it’s Jimmy’s. Everyone knows Jimmy. It’s Jimmy’s Off Licence on the fucking main road. You must know Jimmy mate.’
‘Sorry I don’t. I need the name of the off licence if you want the number.’
‘Listen, I need me gear. Jimmy’s got it. Call him for me and tell him I’ll be round at 4.’
I’m trying to keep calm, not to swear, you never know who may be listening. ‘Mate, this is directory enquiries, if you want a number I need the name of the shop to be able to find it.’
‘You don’t know Jimmy? Fuck I thought everyone knew Jimmy.’
‘Do you know the name of the Off Licence.’
‘Oh mate, if I fucking knew I would have told ya. It’s Jimmy’s.’
I’m bored now. It isn’t funny anymore. I cut him off.
‘…which name please.’
‘TSB, Bury.’
At last, an easy one. ‘TSB, Bury. Thank you.’ I find the number and send it off to the automatic voice. It’s nearly time for my dinner break.
‘…which name please.’
‘Hello?’ (The voice was old, a woman).
‘Directories, which name please.’
‘Is that directories?’
‘Yes this is directories?’ (Oh God here we go).
‘Where you get phone numbers?’
‘Yes, which name please?’
‘What my name?’
‘No the name you’re looking for.’
‘Oh, I’m not really sure.’
‘Is it business or residential?’
‘It’s where I get my gas from.’
‘British Gas?’
‘Is that where I get my gas from love?’
‘It will be. Which department is it you’re looking for?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Is it about you’re account.’
‘Oh no, it’s about my gas bill.’
I’m so tempted to get rid of her on the automatic voice. I consider it, seriously consider it but then decide it wouldn’t be fair, I imagine it being my Mum or Dad calling in... ’right the number is…’
‘Hang on, I better put my glasses on,’ I hear her fumbling around, ‘OK love.’
‘It’s 0845…’
‘Oh wait a minute, don’t go too fast. 0845…’
‘55’
‘55’
‘55’
‘I’ve got that bit love.’
‘No, after the first 55, there is another 55.’
‘So it’s 55 and the 55. Is that it love?’
‘Double 0’
‘I don’t know if I can remember all that love. Let me get a pen and write it down.’
I smile...
‘I’ve got a pen now love.’
I should have been on my dinner 2 minutes ago. ‘OK, it’s 0845’
‘0845’
‘Double 5’
‘Double 5’
‘Double 5’
‘Double 5, this is where I got mixed up wasn’t it love?’
I laugh, but I need a break, I need a drink, ‘Double 0.’
‘Double 0, is that it love?’
‘It is.’
‘Oh thank you love, I’m 73 and I’m on my own. You’ve been very kind.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I can’t be annoyed, ‘are you sure you got the number OK.’
‘I’ll read it back to you. 0..8..4..5...55..55..00.’
‘That’s it.’
‘Oh bless you love, my Arthur used to deal with all this but he died last year. Sometimes I get all muddled and don’t know what I’m doing.’
‘Are you OK now though?’
‘I am love, you have a nice day.’
‘I will, thank you.’
And with that she was gone. I made her happy, just by treating her like a human being instead of another number or another name. I feel like such a twat, even thinking I should get rid of the call...
Maybe I need a change.
I unplug from my position and head to the lounge for a coffee, I need it.
No comments:
Post a Comment