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Shorts
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| Getting Connected | |
| By SammoR | ||||||||||||||||||||||
| 15 June 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||||||
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Apologies for this one...I wrote it over two years ago! Anyway, it's my one and only comp placing - it was 4th placed in the Lipstick Publications First Short Story Competition 2004. I still treasure the certificate and pen set, although I was too hard up to frame the cheque for £10.00! They promised to publish the story on their website, it doesn't seem to have happened yet. So I have to inflict it on the world myself.... ‘Good morning, Express Route insurance, Sonia speaking. How can I help you?’ said the voice on the phone. Female, youngish, with no discernable accent. ‘I want to sort out contents insurance,’ said Mike. The previous evening, Mike had gone drinking with some mates. One of them, Larry, had told the others that he had been burgled the night before. He had lost lots of gear, and had not been insured. Mike and the others had cheered Larry up, paying for all his beers. Mike had decided to sort out his own insurance the next day. ‘What sort of premises?’ asked the woman. ‘A studio flat,’ replied Mike. He looked around the room. The bed he was sitting on, sofa, portable telly, small fridge. There was no phone – he was talking on his mobile. Okay, so he had nothing worth much. But hell, it was his home, his first time living on his own. ‘I have to take some details,’ the woman continued. ‘What’s your occupation?’ ‘Er – IT analyst,’ Mike replied. It was an exaggeration, to put it mildly. After finishing a computer course at the community college, he had spent months looking for a job. He had finally got one at a medium-sized estate agents’ office. It was little more than an office junior position, but with ‘prospects’. He had only been there a few weeks, and was already showing people things about their computers that they’d never known existed. ‘A few more questions,’ said the woman. ‘How old is the building?’ ‘Just a minute,’ said Mike, picking up the TV remote and turning down the volume. ‘Was that This Morning?’ the woman enquired, chattily. ‘Er, no,’ said Mike. ‘Silly cow,’ he thought. This Morning wouldn’t be on for another two hours or so. ‘She has no accent, but doesn’t know what time This Morning’s on,’ Mike pondered. A thought struck him. The call centres in the area had either closed or laid off lots of staff, their parent companies sending jobs to foreign countries such as India. It was one of his dad’s regular whinges. Mike had read about how call centre staff in those countries were trained in the British way of life, learning about things like the weather and East Enders. Like many others, he had laughed at newspaper stories about basic mistakes made by some of the foreign staff. One of them, told that a caller had lost her husband, had reportedly asked her ‘how hard she had looked for him?’ ‘No wonder she tries to speak without an accent,’ thought Mike. ‘Well, I’ve caught her out. Bet she got her time zones mixed up. Took her eye off the clock. I’ll have some fun with her later.’ The woman asked Mike questions about the studio flat, whether it was on the ground floor, how secure the locks were. A few minutes later, everything was finalised. ‘Your insurance is now arranged,’ the woman concluded. ‘We have the best rates on the market. Would there be anything else?’ ‘Just one more thing,’ said Mike doing his best Columbo impression. ‘Which country are you in?’ ‘Er….why do you ask?’ She seemed to lose her composure. ‘Come off it,’ said Mike airily. ‘Nice try, but it’s obvious you’re not in England. Where are you? Bombay?’ ‘Well…yes. But it is called Mumbai now,’ the woman replied somewhat testily. Mike mouthed ‘Yes’, congratulating himself on his powers of deduction. ‘Is your name really Sonia?’ Mike asked, determined to probe further. ‘N-no,’ came the uncertain voice at the other end. ‘My name is Sunita.’ Mike looked at his watch. It was 8.45. He’d started the call at 8.30 exactly, the opening time of the call centre. He wasn’t due at the office until 9.30. He had a few more minutes to play around with before he had to leave for work. Fortunately the office was not far from his flat. ‘Your company used to have a really big call centre near where I live,’ said Mike, mounting his dad’s hobbyhorse. ‘But they laid off most of the workers and moved their jobs out your way. You feel guilty about that?’ There was a brief pause on the other end. ‘Blame market forces,’ replied Sunita. A slight Indian accent started to creep into her voice. ‘You are – what do you say – you are “over the moon” that you got a good rate on your insurance. Well, it is so cheap because the company made economies – like cutting down on the call centre jobs in England. You do not feel guilty about doing business with Express Route– why should I feel guilty about working for them?’ ‘Bloody hell, that’s me told,’ thought Mike. ‘You’ve got a point there,’ he replied. ‘Well, I’ve got to go. Perhaps I’ll, er, make some more enquiries later.’ ‘Goodbye,’ said Sunita, hanging up abruptly. Mike stared at the mobile in his hand. He desperately wanted to talk to her again. Strange thing, he thought. When he had seemed to have the upper hand, early in the conversation, he would have had no interest in speaking to her again. Now that she’d stood up to him and come out fighting, he respected her. ‘She’s thousands of miles away,’ he thought, ‘ I’ll probably never go to India, she’ll probably never come here, but I want to talk to her again!’ He looked at his watch. ‘Sod it, got to get to work!’ he thought. A short bus ride later, and Mike was at work, arriving just in time. He made the coffees and teas as usual, and sorted the post. But his mind wasn’t on the job. ‘Must have been one helluva night out,’ said Jeanette the temp. She was nineteen, a year younger than Mike, and he’d normally have been flirting with her like mad. ‘Your head’s been in the clouds all morning. Met someone, did you?’ ‘Something like that,’ replied Mike. Of course he hadn’t met someone, not really. But it never hurt for women to think you were taken. After work, Mike took the bus home. He tried to get Sunita out of his mind, but it didn’t work. Watching the telly, his ears pricked up whenever an ad for Express Routewas on. ‘Dammit,’ he thought. ‘I’ll phone her again tomorrow. I’ll think of something.’ Next day, at 8.30, Mike sat on his bed, staring at the mobile. He had mates who worked at call centres, and knew that there would be fewer staff on site at the moment the centre started work. He stood a better chance of getting connected to Sunita if he called first thing in the morning. Always assuming she’d be there at the beginning, like yesterday. Mike called the number. A strange voice answered, so he hung up. Again – another strange voice, so he hung up again. Dejection gnawed at him. Would he ever speak to her again? He phoned the number once more, promising himself it’d be the last attempt. He was relieved to hear the accentless voice reply with the standard greeting. ‘Hello, it’s me again,’ Mike said. There was a pause, Sunita not replying. ‘Michael Cochrane, I called yesterday,’ he continued. ‘Yes, I remember you,’ replied Sunita, the Indian accent showing through again. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘ I want a quote on my parents’ contents insurance – they’ve got to renew soon,’ he lied. ‘Be honest-what is the real reason for your call?’ asked Sunita. ‘Surely your parents could call for themselves if they wanted a quote.’ ‘She’s sharp,’ thought Mike. He replied, ‘Okay, I’ll come clean. I know this seems pointless, but I really like talking to you.’ ‘What do you want to talk about?’ she asked. ‘Oh – I dunno -work, and stuff,’ Mike said. ‘Well, I’ll tell you about me first. I’m an IT analyst…you know what sort of place I live in. I work at an office not far from where I live; it’s a short bus ride away. I know where you work, but tell me the rest.’ ‘The call centre is in the middle of the city. I live in the suburbs,’ replied Sunita. ‘My father drives me to work every afternoon, on his way back to work from lunch.’ ‘Does he drive one of those Hindustan Ambassador things?’ asked Mike, eager to show that he knew something about India. He heard Sunita sigh in exasperation. ‘You have been watching far too many old Bollywood films,’ she almost snapped. ‘There are other cars in India now – if I look out of the window I will see lots of BMWs and Benzes.’ ‘Just as well,’ said Mike. ‘I know it’s made in your country, but you’ve got to agree, the Ambassador is really ugly. Which twit designed that?’ ‘I do not know his name,’ replied Sunita, ‘But he was one of your countrymen. It is an old British design.’ ‘I walked into that,’ Mike thought. ‘Quick, change the subject.’ ‘What about food?’ he asked. ‘Is there a canteen where you work?’ ‘Yes, there is one,’ replied Sunita. ‘But I eat at a cafe over the road, called the Taj Mahal. Where do you eat?’ ‘No canteen at our place,’ said Mike, glossing over the fact that the firm was far too small to have one. ‘I eat at a pub near the office, called the Spud and Rabbit.’ Sunita giggled. ‘What sort of a name is that?’ ‘One of those new chain pubs,’ Mike said. ‘Dunno what they teach you guys about England, but the pubs here aren’t all called the Queen Vic or the Rover’s Return.’ Sunita suddenly resumed the accentless voice. ‘You will find that our rates of fire insurance are very competitive….’ ‘Supervisor close by?’ Mike asked. ‘Yes,’ whispered Sunita. ‘I’ll, er, make a further enquiry first thing tomorrow. We’ll talk then,’ Mike continued. ‘We will talk then,’ replied Sunita, before hanging up. The next few days - except the Sunday, when the call centre was closed - passed in Groundhog Day style. At 8.30 each morning, Mike would dial the call centre number. Sometimes he would get some of the other operators, and he’d have to hang up and call several times before he got Sunita. Occasionally, when a supervisor came by, Sunita would pretend to give insurance advice. They would talk about their lives. Mike would describe his surroundings in England, holidays he’d been on in Spain, and other things. But anything he said would pale into insignificance against Sunita’s accounts of places she had been to. She would describe the snow-capped Himalayas, the Gateway to India, the Parliament Buildings at Delhi, pilgrims bathing at Varanasi, and the beautiful beaches of Goa. It all made Mike’s life so far seem very limited. But he was also fascinated by the woman herself, not just the places she had been to or the sights she had seen. She was smart, and assertive, quite unlike any of Mike’s previous girlfriends. Slowly, he realised that he wanted to meet Sunita in person. Mike wondered what she looked like. But he never had the courage to ask – that would make him seem like any heavy-breathing phone pervert. In his mind’s eye she was tall and slim, wearing a sari. The following Tuesday Mike met Larry for lunch in the Spud and Rabbit. They finished eating, and were dawdling over their drinks. ‘Did you get your insurance sorted like you said?’ asked Larry. ‘You bet,’ said Mike. ‘And what d’you know? The girl I spoke to on the phone, she works at a call centre in India. I still talk to her, most mornings.’ ‘Yeah, but what’s the point?’ asked Larry. ‘You’re here, she’s there. It’s not going anywhere, surely?’ ‘Well, I think it is,’ mumbled Mike. ‘I could get her email address, start emailing her…might visit her out there, and who knows?’ ‘Sounds crazy to me,’ Larry replied. ‘What’s she like anyway?’ ‘Smart, sharp,’ said Mike. ‘First I gave her a piece of my mind about them nicking our call centre jobs, and she didn’t have anything to say …’ ‘You’re sooo full of it!’ screeched a female voice from behind them. Mike turned. At the table behind them three young women - two white, one Asian - were seated, also having post-lunch drinks. ‘You what?’ asked Mike. ‘You heard!’ said one of the girls, a lanky redhead. ‘I’ve been talking to a girl who works in India – what the hell would you know about it?’ Mike retorted. ‘She doesn’t work in sodding India…she works right here…don’t you, Sunita?’ ‘Er, yeah,’ said the Asian girl in a local accent, glaring at the redhead. She was short and stocky, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, not at all as Mike had imagined. ‘Y-y-you’re Sunita?’ Mike could not believe it. Larry did what any best friend does in times of trouble. ‘Sorry mate, I must be going,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Got to get back to the office.’ Sunita’s mates seemed to have the same idea, and scarpered too. ‘This isn’t possible,’ Mike muttered. ‘What happened - you get transferred here?’ ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Sunita replied, still in a local accent. ‘That call centre which shipped most of its jobs to India didn’t close; it’s still a few streets away. That’s where I’ve always worked.’ ‘You made me look a right prat!’ snapped Mike. He rose, stormed out of the pub and went back to work. The next morning, Mike sat on his bed, mobile in hand. ‘No,’ he thought, ‘I’m not calling her, ever again.’ It really was like Groundhog Day, the bit at the end where Phil wakes up and finds that time has finally moved on. Then his mobile rang. ‘Unavailable’, read the screen. ‘Wayne calling from Australia,’ Mike thought. ‘Maybe he’s finally made it up Uluru.’ ‘Hello,’ Mike said. ‘Hello,’ said Sunita. ‘How the hell did you get my number?’ Mike practically spat out the words. ‘It showed up on the system here,’ replied Sunita. ‘I’d written it down.’ Part of Mike wanted to bang the phone down. But where do you bang a mobile – against your head? ‘Why did you do it?’ Mike wanted to know. ‘The “Sonia” thing, the accents…?’ ‘Lots of us use a different name on the phone. And if you’ve got a strong city accent like me, you tone it down a bit.’ ‘What about the Indian accent then?’ ‘I was doing my best Grandma Kumar impression, just to pull your leg.’ ‘But how come you didn’t know when This Morning is on?’ Mike asked. ‘Not my fault I’m not a couch potato,’ Sunita retorted. ‘Lots of callers think they can catch us out, think we’re abroad….sometimes we string people along just to wind them up.’ ‘But why take it so far…..?’ ‘Yeah, right – like I was the only one telling porkies! What about you – Mr Hot-Shot IT analyst? I only had to ask at the pub to find out you’re just the office boy at a little estate agents’….’ ‘Okay, you’ve made your point,’ Mike sulked. ‘How come your mates found out?’ ‘They sit next to me here, so they knew all about it from day one,’ Sunita said. ‘You’ve lived in India then?’ asked Mike. ‘You seemed to know all about it…’ ‘Never been there,’ Sunita giggled. ‘But surely your parents…’ ‘Not even them,’ Sunita replied. ‘Dad’s from Uganda, Mum’s from Trinidad.’ Mike was perplexed. ‘How come you knew all about it then?’ ‘I looked up stuff on the Net,’ Sunita said. ‘I thought you’d see through me, ’cos most people in India couldn’t travel to all those places unless they were rich….’ ‘What were you guys doing in the pub?’ ‘Dunno,’ said Sunita hesitantly. ‘The girls thought it’d be a laugh, to see what you looked like. It started as a joke – we’ve watched you a few times now. Then yesterday, when you were talking to your mate, it all seemed to fall into place. Like I was getting to know how you felt. I’d have told you, later, that I was really here. But then Rhiannon went and blew my cover ….’ ‘I felt a right mug,’ Mike said. ‘You know, with Larry being there….’ ‘Larry’s got other things on his mind right now,’ Sunita chuckled. ‘He’s only gone and copped off with Rhiannon. Yeah – it’s true - why shouldn’t I tell him?’ Sunita went on, obviously talking to Rhiannon herself. Then, talking to Mike again she said, ‘Okay, so I’m not from the exotic East. I’m just Sunita from the block. You still want to get to know me?’ ‘Er, yeah,’ Mike replied. ‘Spud and Rabbit, lunchtime? Just you and me this time.’ ‘Not the Taj Mahal?’ Mike smiled. ‘You’re on …’
The End
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| Reviews |
| You have won one of the following prizes Written by gerardconnolly (1186 comments posted) 15th June 2006 |
| Glad you did inflict it on us Sammo! Nice read. Made all the better by some fine snappy dialogue. Quote of the Month Winner for June is... Sammo!! ... with : ' Fourth Place Lipstick Publications Short Story Competition!!?? You're 'avin a larf, my son!? That's worth a punchline on its own!! [ 150 Holiday Vouchers phone this number...] Slan! |
| .... and a 'happy ending' too! Written by Bagheera (685 comments posted) 15th June 2006 |
| Nice one, Sammo: you strung me along in exactly the same way as Sunita did with Mike! Well done!  |
| nice yarn Written by Leo (573 comments posted) 15th June 2006 |
| nice to know i'm not the only mug! nice flow and dialogue. bring it on! |
| ta guys.... Written by SammoR (132 comments posted) 15th June 2006 |
| ...for the comments! All gratefully accepted. Any no, gerardconnolly, I'm not making the competition up, it did exist. Ocasionally, I take out the certificate and gloat in secret, 'Mine, all mine!' |
| Call centre innit Written by netkwake (31 comments posted) 16th June 2006 |
| Nice one SammoR, an interesting read and an entertaining plot. They're buggers these women aren't they? N o wonder we can never win. regards nk |
| Really Lovely Tale! Written by mishmish (389 comments posted) 16th June 2006 |
| Hi Sammo What a lovely little story...and I'm so pleased it had a happy ending. It did go through my head that she wasn't in Britain because of all that 'travel stuff', but the denouement was unexpected. Being in the same pub, taking the piss...You could really feel for Mike. Super writing, fast flowing and fabulous! best wishes mishmish |
| great story Written by ellyb39 (79 comments posted) 17th June 2006 |
| I really liked the twist in this story, so often you do wonder as you speak to somebody obviously indian and I normally ask them where they are, would rather talk about that than accounts. Mike and Sunita were very real people, I'm sure I've met them down the pub. thanks, Elly |
| Love it! Written by Leigh (254 comments posted) 21st June 2006 |
| Great story, really amusing and very current too, tapping into the frustrations many of us have had with call centres. Glad this one had a happier outcome than most of those conversations, though. You create very engaging and realistic characters in Mike and Sunita - and their friends. The dialogue had a lovely flow to it as well. Not surprised you did well with this in that competition! |
| That sort of competition!!? Written by ceramix (24 comments posted) 27th June 2006 |
| Agree with gerard, can harldy believe that's a real competition! Nice plot twist as the idea of Mike falling in love over the phone was turning a bit 'sleepless in seattle', so to end with the 2 characters meeting at the local pub was realistic as well as memorable. mike and sunita: a match made in call centre heaven!  a good read, thanks |
| Quite Enjoyable Written by YaakovaShoshana (24 comments posted) 7th August 2007 |
What a fun read! Very deft twist at the end. We get to see Mike's pretensions pricked, but he still gets the girl in the end. The hero learns his lesson and everyone goes away happy. Ah, if only real life worked that way . . .  |
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