The Single Mum's Wish List by Charlene Allcott

Author:Charlene Allcott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2018-07-25T16:00:00+00:00

23

HOWEVER QUIRKY I find Patricia to be, I respect what she is saying. I want to invest in myself, I’m desperate to create change, and desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s out of pure desperation that I offer to work a night shift. I hate them. The office is full of the lost and lonely, the people with no one who cares where they are at three in the morning. It’s like corporate purgatory. You get time and a half for working after ten but you pay for that with a little bit of your soul. You have to man the phones even when no one calls and the majority of the time no one does. When you do get a call the customer falls into one of two categories – drunk or mad.

My line is particularly quiet tonight. It leaves me alone with my thoughts, which is not always a fun place to be. When my phone rings I’m relieved. I ask how I can help and I mean it.

‘Where’s Darren?’ asks a woman.

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I’m Martha, I’ll be helping you today.’

‘Well, I don’t want you. I want Darren.’ Mad.

‘I’m not sure who you spoke to earlier but I’m sure I can help you.’ I hear some shuffling, after which the woman recites the customer hotline.

‘Is that the number?’ she asks.

‘Yes, it is,’ I say.

‘Well, it’s supposed to be Darren.’ She says this as if she has caught me out in a lie. ‘Can you get me him?’

‘What is it you would like to discuss?’ I ask.

‘None of your beeswax,’ snaps the woman. ‘Darren told me I could have all this stuff but I ain’t got no stuff.’

‘What were you expecting, Madam?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know – that’s why I need to talk to Darren. He told me with the gold plan I get all this stuff …’

‘Well, the stuff isn’t actually physical,’ I say. ‘I mean, it’s not tangible stuff.’

‘Eh,’ says the woman, ‘you calling me a liar?’

‘Listen, lady,’ I say, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here but it feels like you’ve got more problems than your preferential customer plan.’

There is silence on the line and then the woman says, ‘I have half a mind to—’ I cut off the call. I have no desire to hear what she plans to do with her half a mind. When I’m angry I want to cry; it’s one of the traits I like least about myself. It’s so ineffective, and you end up communicating completely the wrong message. Often it results in an awkward hug with someone I hate.

I escape to the break room before the tears arrive. When Greg comes in shortly after me my head throbs with irritation. I really want to be alone but then he hands me a Twix and I soften. I’m probably more hangry than angry. I thank him and experience a brief moment of guilt about the chocolate’s impact on my diet before cramming both fingers in my mouth at the same time.

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