One Night at the Call Center

Chapter 1 8:31 p.m. I was splashing my hands helplessly in the sea. I can't even swim in a pond, let alone in the Indian Ocean. While I was in the water, my boss Bakshi was in a boat next to me. He was pushing my head down in the water. I saw Priyanka drifting away in a lifeboat. I screamed as Bakshi used both his hands to keep my head submerged. Salt water was filling my mouth and nostrils when I heard loud beeps in the distance. My nightmare ended as my cellphone alarm rang hard in my left ear and I woke up to its "Last Christmas" ring tone. The ring tone was a gift from Shefali, my new semi-girlfriend. I squinted through a half-shut eye to see 8:32 p.m. surrounded by little bells flashing on the screen. "Damn," I said and jumped out of bed. I would have loved to analyze my dream and its significance in my insignificant life, but I had to get dressed for work. "Man, the Qualis will be here in twenty minutes," I thought, digging matter out of my eye. Qualis was the make of car that picked us all up individually and drove us together to the center. I was still tired, but afraid of staying in bed any longer in case I was late. Besides, there was a serious risk of Bakshi making a comeback in my dreams. By the way, I am Shyam Mehra, or Sam Marcy as they call me at my workplace, the Connections call center in Gurgaon. American tongues have trouble saying my real name and prefer Sam. If you want, you can give me another name, too. I really don't care. Anyway, I'm a call-center agent. There are hundreds of thousands, probably millions of agents like me. But this total pain-in-the neck author chose me, of all the agents in the country. He met me and told me to help him with his second book. In fact, he pretty much wanted me to write the book for him. I declined, saying I can't even write my own CV, so there was no way I could write a whole book. I explained to him how my promotion to the position of team leader had been postponed for one year because my manager Bakshi had told me I don't have the "required skills set" yet. In my review, Bakshi wrote that I was "not a go-getter." I don't even know what "go-getter" means, so I guess I'm definitely not one. But this author said he didn't care. He had promised someone he'd write this story so I'd better cooperate or he would keep on pestering me. I tried my best to wriggle out of it, but he wouldn't let go. I finally relented and that's why I'm stuck with this assignment, while you are stuck with me. I also want to give you one more warning. My English is not that greatactually, nothing about me is great. So, if you're looking for something sophisticated and highbrow, then I suggest you read another book with plenty of long words. I know only one big word: "management." But we'll get to that later. I told the author about my limited English. However, he said big emotions don't come from big words, so I had no choice but to do the job. I hate authors. Now let's get back to the story. If you remember, I had just woken up. There was a noise in the living room. Some relatives were in town to attend a family wedding. My neighbor was getting married to his cousin . . . er, sorry, I'm a bit groggy, my cousin was getting married to his neighbor. But I had to work, so I couldn't go to the wedding. It didn't matter, though, all marriages are the same, more or less. I reached the bathroom still half-asleep. It was occupied. The bathroom door was open. I saw five of my aunts scrambling to get a few square inches of the washbasin mirror. One aunt was cursing hBhagat, Chetan is the author of 'One Night at the Call Center ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780345498328 and ISBN 0345498321.