Inside the call center was just another ordinary day, the phones boards were alight with incoming calls at every station as always. The coffee machines throughout the offices were spewing out their molten nectar of life for the perpetually zombified staff that were present 24 hours a day. In the center of this mundane floor sat Williams. His cubicle was quite literally in the center of the floor; the single point on the floor that furthest from all sources of natural light. Today Williams had chosen the ceiling tile to the left of the one directly above his computer to zone out on. He sometimes went with the one that was back two and one to the right but he felt it had too much of a John Pollock feel, where-as todays choice reminded him more of Van Goghs Pointillism phase. While contemplating life, the universe, and everything Williams headset chirped twice to let him know one of their units was calling in. He sat forward to see which line was active. 42. Of course it was one of the lines he was assigned to. Clearing his throat to put on his drone voice Williams counted to 3 and his the talk button.
Good morning and thank you for calling Cretsonian services how may I assist y
Yeah, yeah, yeah amazing listen Im leaving the scene right now and my route is taking me through a secure area and Im going to need the gate code to get through, but Im in heavy traffic right now so stay on the line until I reach the gate.
Of course SIR, Williams answered back with more attitude in his voice than he intended. Remembering this particular caller, Williams sighed to himself and began looking up the gate code Brad would need. Before Williams first encounter with James he had herd only stories from other co-workers who had to deal with this particular driver in the past. Talk around the cooler was that he was impatient, rude, belligerent, and even had the gall to use profanity over the phone. Williams was shocked when he first heard the stories, now that he had dealt with James himself more than a handful of times the experience had become akin to a dull ache that comes and goes without any noticeable injury. With correct gate code identified he tapped his mic to transmit.
The gate code is 756 Williams said non-chalauntley.
No! You are not doing this again to me Williams. Dont give me the damn gate code until I ask for it, James answered back angrily.
According to company policy I need to finish my call in as timely a manner as possible while still providing the necessary support, Williams droned over the line.
Bitch I did not ask for the mother fucking policy speech, Im telling you, you need to stay on the line so
Im afraid our policy mandates that I
Mother fucker, Im the one doing 50 through traffic in an ambulance, Im concentrating on the god damn rode, not the numbers youre spouting over the line, just stay on it until I get to the mother fucking gate! Enraged by his new luck James unconsciously increased the pressure on the accelerator until he was careening through traffic well above 70. Drivers of the other cars on the rode barely had time to see the ambulance before it passed let alone decelerate and pull over into an adjacent lane. James didnt notice the increase in speed until it was too late. He came up to an almost 90 degree turn in the rode aptly named dead mans turn. With irony in full view James did what many before him have to done in that exact situation. In those last few seconds before hitting the guard rail James unleashed a torrent of profanity the likes of which have not been uttered since Midway and Normandy. Unknown to James at the time of his epic tirade the transmit button on his com device was depressed from the rageful grip it was receiving. Williams had resumed his appreciation of the Sistine chapel remake above his desk when he had another incoming call. This time instead of leaning forward to glance at the control panel he ran his hand over the button he knew to select from muscle memory. Unfortunately Williams also selected the share button allowing all headsets, speakers, and headphones connected to the network to receive the call. Instantly a cacophony of James anger surged into the office from every direction followed by a gargantuan crash and the sound of the ambulance siren as it sadly wound down to hum.
Back in the call center all but molecular activity had stopped. It seemed as though even other incoming calls had gotten the hint to lay low for the moment. Williams blinked a couple times regaining his senses from what could be described as a verbal stun gun. Just then out of nowhere Mr. Bittertooth appeared by Williams side with a look on his face as if he had just witnessed the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia.
Williams what in all is holy on earth did you do?
S-sir it wasnt me, sputtered Williams, it was a driver calling in.
Well what the hell just happened?
I dont know Sir, Williams replied apologetically.
Then. Find. Out. Mr. Bittertooth responded, each word out of his mouth was accompanied by a small amount of spittle. Without another word Williams supervisor disappeared as evasively as he had appeared.
Good morning and thank you for calling Cretsonian services how may I assist y
Yeah, yeah, yeah amazing listen Im leaving the scene right now and my route is taking me through a secure area and Im going to need the gate code to get through, but Im in heavy traffic right now so stay on the line until I reach the gate.
Of course SIR, Williams answered back with more attitude in his voice than he intended. Remembering this particular caller, Williams sighed to himself and began looking up the gate code Brad would need. Before Williams first encounter with James he had herd only stories from other co-workers who had to deal with this particular driver in the past. Talk around the cooler was that he was impatient, rude, belligerent, and even had the gall to use profanity over the phone. Williams was shocked when he first heard the stories, now that he had dealt with James himself more than a handful of times the experience had become akin to a dull ache that comes and goes without any noticeable injury. With correct gate code identified he tapped his mic to transmit.
The gate code is 756 Williams said non-chalauntley.
No! You are not doing this again to me Williams. Dont give me the damn gate code until I ask for it, James answered back angrily.
According to company policy I need to finish my call in as timely a manner as possible while still providing the necessary support, Williams droned over the line.
Bitch I did not ask for the mother fucking policy speech, Im telling you, you need to stay on the line so
Im afraid our policy mandates that I
Mother fucker, Im the one doing 50 through traffic in an ambulance, Im concentrating on the god damn rode, not the numbers youre spouting over the line, just stay on it until I get to the mother fucking gate! Enraged by his new luck James unconsciously increased the pressure on the accelerator until he was careening through traffic well above 70. Drivers of the other cars on the rode barely had time to see the ambulance before it passed let alone decelerate and pull over into an adjacent lane. James didnt notice the increase in speed until it was too late. He came up to an almost 90 degree turn in the rode aptly named dead mans turn. With irony in full view James did what many before him have to done in that exact situation. In those last few seconds before hitting the guard rail James unleashed a torrent of profanity the likes of which have not been uttered since Midway and Normandy. Unknown to James at the time of his epic tirade the transmit button on his com device was depressed from the rageful grip it was receiving. Williams had resumed his appreciation of the Sistine chapel remake above his desk when he had another incoming call. This time instead of leaning forward to glance at the control panel he ran his hand over the button he knew to select from muscle memory. Unfortunately Williams also selected the share button allowing all headsets, speakers, and headphones connected to the network to receive the call. Instantly a cacophony of James anger surged into the office from every direction followed by a gargantuan crash and the sound of the ambulance siren as it sadly wound down to hum.
Back in the call center all but molecular activity had stopped. It seemed as though even other incoming calls had gotten the hint to lay low for the moment. Williams blinked a couple times regaining his senses from what could be described as a verbal stun gun. Just then out of nowhere Mr. Bittertooth appeared by Williams side with a look on his face as if he had just witnessed the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia.
Williams what in all is holy on earth did you do?
S-sir it wasnt me, sputtered Williams, it was a driver calling in.
Well what the hell just happened?
I dont know Sir, Williams replied apologetically.
Then. Find. Out. Mr. Bittertooth responded, each word out of his mouth was accompanied by a small amount of spittle. Without another word Williams supervisor disappeared as evasively as he had appeared.