Page 85 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

HAILEY

“ I ’ve been on hold for fourteen minutes,” my afternoon caller said sharply into my ear. Those were the first words she said after I took her call. She had a shrill, nasally voice, and I could hear children shrieking as they played in the background.

I told myself to be nice. She was probably an overwhelmed mother with nothing around to help her get her frustration out. I pictured her with frazzled hair and a lazy husband and ungrateful children, and it was easier for me to be sweet.

“I apologize for your wait time. I know how inconvenient it can be to sit around on hold when you have other pressing things to do with your day. Let me help you fix your problem as quickly as possible so you can get off the phone and back to your day.”

She was quiet on the other end.

I had a way with words. At least that was what everyone had told me my entire life. My daddy used to say I could talk my way out of anything with him. I just thought he was an easy mark. But weren’t most fathers with their little girl?

Hannah strongly disagreed. She’d never been able to weasel as much junk food or soda out of our father. He had a sweet spot for me, no pun intended.

I supposed that was why I was the thicker sister.

“That sounds fine,” the woman on the other end of the line said.

I followed the process of qualifying customers and making sure they were who they said they were.

I asked her name, her address, and the phone number associated with the mobile device she was calling about.

She gave me all the information in clipped, abrupt answers, but I let her sour attitude roll right off my shoulders.

While I waited for her account to load on my monitor, I glanced up at my cubicle buddy.

Azira, my work friend and the only reason I still maintained any of my sanity in this job, flashed me a dazzlingly white smile. She rolled her eyes and made talking motions with her hand, suggesting the customer talking in her ear would not shut up.

I stifled a giggle and looked back at my monitor. “So tell me about why you’re calling, Sharon,” I said.

Sharon, my customer, launched into a furious rant about warranty protection on her three-year-old phone. “My son is reckless. He drops his phone all the time, and even though we tell him to put a case on it, he never listens.”

“Teenagers,” I said knowingly.

“He’s ten.”

“Oh.”

Right. Parents buy their kids two-thousand-dollar phones these days.

“Anyway,” Sharon continued, “he dropped his phone a couple of days ago and smashed the shit out of the screen. It won’t work. The screen is on but there’s no response to touch. And the glass is sharp.”

No shit. “So how can I help you?” I asked. In other words, I was asking her what solution she wanted. Did she want to upgrade to a new device? She was well out of her contract and could do so. Did she want to contact the manufacturer and pay out of pocket for repairs?

“My husband said he purchased a warranty for the phone.”

“Let me look into that for you.” I clicked, navigated, and came to the conclusion that no, he did not have an extended warranty.

He had the usual manufacturer’s warranty, which was one year for software issues, but there was no protection in terms of physical damage.

As delicately as I could, I explained this to Sharon.

“Of course,” she spat into the phone. “Of course, you’re telling me we don’t have it! I want to speak to your manager. I know what we signed up for when we first got the phone.”

“I can pull up your original invoice to make sure there isn’t a system error.”

“You do that, sweetheart.”

“Hold please.”

I put her on hold and let her stew in it. At the same time, Azira took off her headset and hung it on the hook on the wall of her cubicle. She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. “Got a live one?”

“Domestic housewife who insists her ten-year-old has an extended warranty for his three-year-old phone,” I said dryly.

“And does she?”

“Nope.”

Azira ran her hands over her close-shaven scalp.

Her textured hair was so short and in the tightest curls I’d ever seen.

I’d always been a little envious of her boldness.

Azira always rocked her natural hair and loved wearing bright colors to accentuate her dark skin.

Today, she was wearing highlighter- yellow earrings and a pinstriped black blouse.

As always, she looked like a badass bitch.

And I looked like a timid doe-eyed intern.

“Let her stew a bit longer,” Azira said when I went to take Sharon off hold. “Tell me about your blind date on Saturday. How’d it go? Was he cute?”

I groaned.

Azira leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh girl, lay it on me. I want to hear all the deets.”

I stretched up in my chair and peered over the walls of our cubicle to make sure management wasn’t on the floor. They never much cared if we socialized during work, so long as we hit our daily number of calls—which I always did. The coast was clear, so I leaned forward too. “His name was Chuck—”

“I hate him already.”

I laughed. “Hold on. Hold on. He spent the entire night talking about himself.”

“As most boys do.”

“And every time I said something, it was like he was surprised I was there.”

Azira fake gagged. “Ew. You know what that is? That is an insecure man who only thinks women are for talking at and fucking. And chances are very high he’s a three-pump chump. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I snickered. “I don’t think you’re wrong.”

Azira twirled one of her big neon earrings. Tons of tiny little beads hung off of them and I could hear them whispering against each other like tiny wind chimes. “What about this other guy of yours? The one you’re always talking about. What’s his name?”

“Jackson.”

“Yes.” Azira’s eyes lit up. “That one. What’s the deal with you two?”

I took a sip of my water and shrugged. “No deal. We’ve been best friends since I met him in the tenth grade.”

“You don’t think it could be something more with a little nudge in the right direction? Show a bit of leg. Wear his favorite scent. Tell him how handsome he is. It’s that easy.”

“Azira, I don’t have half as much game as you. Please. Don’t patronize me.”

She rocked back in her chair and laughed. “Game? Girl, what are you talking about? I don’t have game. I just see something I want and go get it.”

“Well, I don’t want Jackson.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t,” I said firmly. “He’s my best friend. Why would I ever want to ruin something like that?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t ruin it.”

“Stop it.” I reached for the blinking red button on my phone. “I have to let Sharon down easy. Wish me luck.”

Azira winked. “Good luck.”

I pressed the button. It turned solid green. Screaming children filled my ears. “Sharon? Sharon, can you hear me?”

“What took you so long?”

“Our systems are in need of an update,” I lied smoothly. It was my go-to move. If you’re going to be rude to me, I’m going to wield what little power I have to inconvenience you. Be polite and, you know, human? And I’ll have you taken care of and you’ll get off the call with a smile.

I pulled up her original receipt on my monitor and frowned. “I’ve reviewed your file. There was no purchase of extended warranty made because you didn’t purchase this phone from us.”

“What?” she asked shrilly. “Of course I did! I’m on a contract with you! Where the fuck else would I have bought the phone?”

“Well, I would assume you purchased it directly from the manufacturer by going into the store or ordering it online. They are who you would need to go to for warranty claims.”

“I pay for a service through you. You will honor my warranty. What kind of company is this? As soon as my last contract expires, I’m transferring all my lines somewhere else.”

“That’s your choice, ma’am,” I said less sweetly than I’d been speaking to her before. “But surely, you can understand how this is not my company’s responsibility. If you bought a car from Honda, would you expect Toyota to do your services for free?”

“How dare you speak down to me?! Put me on with your manager. Immediately!”

“Sure thing, Sharon.” I put her on hold.

Azira was still watching me. She clicked her tongue. “Should’ve told her to get stuffed.”

“I don’t want to get fired.”

“You wouldn’t. They’d just write you up.”

I frowned. “I don’t want that either.”

“Sometimes it’s worth it.”

I sent Sharon’s call into the manager. Within ten seconds, my red light was blinking again as the next caller in line was pushed to me. My finger hovered over the button while Azira opened her lunch bag and began setting her food on her desk.

“It’s not worth it if you’re trying to get a promotion,” I said more to myself than to Azira.

I didn’t want to get stuck on the bottom floor in the call center.

I wanted to climb the ranks. I wanted to go corporate.

I wanted to have enough power to make decisions to make the everyday lives of the call-center employees a little less depressing.

Being yelled at all day took a toll on a person.

Sometimes, the calls could be really rough.

Really cruel. I’d seen women stand up from their desks in tears mid-shift and storm out, never to be seen again.

I’d seen men knock their computers right off their desks in bursts of rage.

I’d seen Azira herself tear her own headset out of the USB of her computer, pulling the whole tower off the desk and onto the cheap carpet floor, where it smashed to pieces.

“Just be careful, Hailey,” Azira said. “This job will eat you up and spit you out if you care about it too much. Just saying.”