One Night at the Call Center Page 5

“Huh?” Bakshi said.

  “Just call systems, sir,” I said and stood up, “using that.” I pointed at his telephone and rushed back to my bay.

  Chapter 7

  11:00 p.m.

  NICE BREAK, EH?” VROOM SAID when I returned to our bay.

  “C'mon, man, I just went to Bakshi's office about the static,” I said.

  “Is he sending someone?” Vroom asked as he untangled his phone wires.

  “He said I should identify the strategic variables first,” I said and sat down on my seat, resting my face on my hands.

  “Strategic variables? What are they?” Vroom said, without looking at me.

  “How the hell do I know?” I snorted. “If I did, I'd be team leader. He also drew some diagrams.”

  Radhika, Esha, and Priyanka were busy on calls. Every few seconds, they would turn the phone away from their ears to avoid the loud static. I wished the systems guy would come by soon.

  “What diagrams?” Vroom said as he took out some chewing gum from his drawer and offered one to me.

  “Some crap 2x2 matrix or something,” I said, declining Vroom's offer.

  “Poor Bakshi, he's just a silly, harmless creature. Don't worry about him,” Vroom said.

  “Where the hell is the systems guy?” I picked up the phone and called systems myself. They hadn't yet received a call from Bakshi. “Can you please come now … yes, we have an emergency … yes, our manager knows about it.”

  “Things are bad around here, my friend,” Vroom said. “Bad news may be coming.”

  “What do you mean? Are they cutting jobs?” I asked, now a little worried and anxious as well as frustrated. It's amazing how all these nasty emotions decide to visit me together.

  “I'm trying to find out,” Vroom said, clicking open a window on his screen. “The Western Computers account is really suffering. If we lose that account, the call center will sink.”

  “Crap. I heard something about it from Shefali. I think the website we made was too useful. People have stopped calling us,” I said.

  A visitor in our bay interrupted our conversation. I knew he was the systems guy as he had three pagers on his belt and two memory cards around his neck.

  Priyanka told him about the problem and made him listen to the static.

  The systems guy asked us to disconnect our lines for ten minutes.

  Everyone removed their headsets. I saw Esha adjusting her hair. She does it at least ten times a night. First she removes the rubber band that holds up her hair so it all falls loose, then she pulls it all together and ties it back again.

  Her hair was light-colored and intensely curly at the ends: the result of an expensive hairstyling job that cost as much as minor surgery. It didn't even look that nice if you asked me. Naturally curly hair is one thing, but processed curly hair looks like tangled telephone wires.

  I saw Vroom stare at Esha. It's never easy for guys to work in an office with a hot girl. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Ignore their sexiness and stare at your computer?

  Radhika took her pink wool out from her bag and started to knit frantically. Military Uncle's system was still working, so he stayed glued to his monitor.

  “What are you knitting?” Esha turned to Radhika.

  “A scarf for my mother-in-law. She's very sweet, she feels cold at night,” Radhika said.

  “She is not sweet—” Vroom began to say, but Radhika interrupted him.

  “Shh, Vroom. She is fine, just traditional.”

  “And that sucks, right?” Vroom said.

  “Not at all. In fact, I like the cozy family feeling. They're only a little bit old-fashioned,” Radhika said and smiled. I didn't think her smile was genuine, but it was none of my business.

  “Yeah, right. Only a little. As in always cover your head with your sari types,” Vroom said.

  “They make you cover your head?” Esha asked, speaking through teeth clenched around her rubber hairband.

  “They don't make me do anything, Esha. I am willing to follow their culture. All married women in their house do it,” Radhika said.

  “Still, it is a bit weird,” Esha said doubtfully.

  “Anyway, I look on it as a challenge. I love Anuj and he said he came as a package. But yeah, sometimes I miss wearing low-waisted jeans like you wore yesterday.”

  I was amazed Radhika remembered what Esha had worn yesterday. Only women have this special area in the brain that keeps track of everything they and their friends have worn during the last fifty days.

  “You like those jeans?” Esha said, her eyes lighting up.

  “I love them. But I guess you need the right figure for them,” Radhika said. “Anyway, sorry to change the topic, guys, but we're forgetting something here.”

  “What? Systems?” I asked, as I looked under the table where the systems guy lurked within a jungle of tangled wires and told me he'd need ten more minutes.

  I checked my watch. It was 11:20 p.m. I wondered if Bakshi would be coming for his daily rounds soon.

  “I didn't mean the static,” Radhika said as she put her knitting aside. “Miss Priyanka has some big news for us, remember?”

  “Oh yes. C'mon, Priyanka, tell us!” Esha screamed. Military Uncle looked up from his screen for a second and then went back to work. I wondered if he'd been this quiet when he lived with his son and daughter-in-law.

  “OK, I do have something to tell you,” Priyanka said with a sheepish grin, making her two dimples even more prominent. She brought out a box of sweets from her large plastic bag.

  “Whatever your news is, we do get to eat the sweets, right?” Vroom wanted to know.

  “Of course,” Priyanka said, carefully opening the red cellophane wrapping on the box. I hate it when she's so methodical. Just rip the damn wrapping off, I thought. Anyway, it was none of my business. I looked under the table for a few seconds, as if to help the systems guy.

  “So, what's up? Ooh milk cake, my favorite,” Radhika said, even as Vroom jumped to grab the first piece.

  “I'll tell you, but you guys have to swear it won't leave WASG,” Priyanka said. She offered the box to Radhika and Esha. Radhika took two pieces, while Esha broke off the tiniest piece possible with human fingers. I guess the low-cut jeans figure comes at a price.

  “Of course we won't tell anyone. I hardly have any friends outside the WASG. Now tell us, please,” Esha said and wiped her long fingers with a tissue.

  “Well, let's just say my mum is the happiest person on earth today,” Priyanka said.

  “No riddles. Just tell the story,” Vroom said.

  “Well, you know my mum and her obsession for a match with an expat Indian for her rebellious daughter to take her away from India?”

  “Uh-uh,” Radhika nodded as she ate her milk cake.

  “So these family friends of ours brought a proposal for me. It came from one of their relatives in Seattle. I would have said no as I always do. But this time I saw the photos, which were cute. I spoke to the guy on the phone and he sounded decent. He works at Microsoft and his parents are in Delhi and I met them today. They are nice people,” Priyanka said and paused to break a piece of cake off for herself. She could have broken a smaller piece, I thought, but it wasn't really my business.

  “And,” Esha said, her eyes opening wide and staring at Priyanka.

  “I don't know, something just clicked,” Priyanka said, playing with her milk cake rather than eating it. “They asked for my decision upfront and I said … yes.”

  “Waaaoooow! Oh wow!” the girls screamed at the highest pitch possible. The systems guy trembled under the table. I told him everything was fine and asked him to continue. At least everything was fine outside. Inside I had a burning feeling, as if someone had tossed a hot coal in my stomach.

  Radhika and Esha got up to hug Priyanka as if India had won the World Cup or something. People get married every day. Did these girls really have to create a scene? I wished the phones would start working again so I didn't have to lis
ten to their nonsense.

  I looked at my computer screen and saw that Microsoft Word was open. Angrily I closed all windows with the Microsoft logo on them.

  “Congratulations, Priyanka,” Vroom said, “that's big news.”

  Even Military Uncle got up and came to shake hands with Priyanka. His generation likes it when young people decide to get married. Of course, he was back at his desk within twenty seconds.

  “This deserves more than milk cake. Where's our treat?” Esha asked. Girls like Esha hardly eat anything, but still jump around asking for treats.

  “The treat is coming, guys,” Priyanka said, her smile taking up permanent residence on her face. “I have only said yes. There've been no ceremonies yet.”

  “You've met the guy?” Vroom asked.

  “No, he's in Seattle. But we spoke for hours on the phone, and I've seen his picture. He's cute. Do you want to see the photo?” Priyanka said.

  “No thanks,” I blurted out. Damn, I couldn't believe I'd said that. By sheer luck I hadn't said it loud enough for Priyanka to hear.

  “Huh? You said something?” Priyanka asked, looking at me.

  I shook my head and pointed under the table as if my only focus was to fix the phones.

  “Do you want some milk cake?” Priyanka asked and shunted the box toward me.

  “No, thanks,” I said and slid the box back.

  “I thought milk cake was your favorite.”

  “Not anymore. My tastes have changed,” I said. “And I'm trying to cut down.”

  “Not even a small piece?” she asked and tilted her head. At one stage in my life I used to find that head-tilt cute, but today I remained adamant.

  I shook my head and our eyes locked. When you've shared a relationship with someone, the first change is in how you look into each other's eyes. The gaze becomes more fixed and it's hard to pull away from it.

  “Aren't you going to say anything?” Priyanka said. When girls say that, it's not really a question. It means they want you to say something.

  “About what? The phone lines? They'll be fixed in ten minutes,” I said.

  “Not that. I'm getting married, Shyam.”

  “Good,” I said and turned to my screen.

  “Show us the picture!” Esha screamed, as if Priyanka was going to show her Brad Pitt naked or something. Priyanka took out a photograph from her handbag and passed it around. I saw it from a distance: He looked like a regular software geek, similar to the guy under our table but with better clothes. He stood straight with his stomach pulled in—an old trick any guy with a paunch applies when he gets his picture taken. He wore glasses and had a super-neat hairstyle as if his mum clutched his cheeks and combed his hair every morning. Actually, she just might have for this arranged-marriage picture. He was standing with the Statue of Liberty in the background and his forced smile made him look like a total loser if you'd asked me, like the kind of guy who never spoke to a girl in college. However, now he was hot, and girls with dimples were ready to marry him without even meeting him.

  “He's so cute, like a little teddy bear,” Esha said and passed the picture to Radhika.

  When girls call a guy “teddy bear,” they just mean he's a nice guy but they'd never be attracted to him. Girls may say they like such guys, but teddy bears never get to sleep with anyone. Unless of course their mums hunt the neighborhood for them.

  “Are you OK?” Priyanka said to me. The others were analyzing the picture.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I just expected a little more reaction. We've known each other for four years, more than anybody else on the desk.”

  Radhika, Esha, and Vroom turned their heads away from the picture to look at us.

  “Reaction?” I said, “I thought I said good!'

  “That's all?” Priyanka said. Her smile had left the building.

  “I'm busy trying to get the system fixed.”

  Everyone was staring at me.

  “OK,” I said, “OK, Priyanka. This is great news. I am 50 happy for you. OK?”

  “You could have used a better tone,” Priyanka muttered, and walked away quickly toward the ladies' room.

  “What? Why is everyone staring at me?” I said as they all turned away.

  The systems guy finally came out from under the table.

  “Fixed?” I said.

  “I need signal-testing equipment,” he said, wiping sweat off his forehead. “The problem could be external. Builders are digging all over this suburb right now, some contractor may have dug over our lines. Just take a break until I come back. Get your manager here as well,” he said and left.

  I picked up the telephone to call Bakshi, but the line was busy so I left a voicemail.

  Priyanka returned from the restroom and I noticed that she had washed her face. Her nose still had a drop of water on it.

  “Sounds like an easy night. I hope it never gets fixed,” Radhika said, knitting ferociously.

  “There's nothing better than a call-center job when the phones aren't working,” Priyanka said and closed the box of sweets.

  “So, tell us more. What's he like?” Esha said.

  “Who? Ganesh?” Priyanka asked.

  “His name is Ganesh? Nice,” Esha said and switched on her mobile phone. Everyone else followed suit and several opening tones filled the room. Normally agents couldn't use cellphones in the bay, but it was OK to do so when the system was down.

  I had two text messages from Shefali: one wishing me goodnight, and another wishing me sweet dreams and a cuddly night. I cringed.

  “Does Ganesh like to talk? Sometimes the software types are really quiet,” Radhika said.

  “Oh yes, he talks a lot. In fact, I might get a call from him now because my phone is on,” Priyanka said and smiled. “We're still getting to know each other, so any communication is good.”

  “You sound 50oo happy,” Esha said. Her “so” lasted four seconds.

  “I am happy. I can see what Radhika says now about getting a new family. Ganesh's mum came round today and gave me a big gold chain and hugged me and kissed me.

  “Sounds horrible,” Vroom said.

  “Shut up, Vroom,” Esha said. “Oh, Priyanka, you're so lucky.”

  Vroom sensed that I wasn't exactly jumping with joy at the conversation.

  “Cigarette?” he said.

  I looked at my watch. It was 11:30, our usual time for taking a smoke. In any case, I preferred burning my lungs to sticking around to find out Ganesh's hobbies.

  Chapter 8

  11:31 p.m.

  VROOM AND I WENT TO THE CALL-CENTER parking lot. He leaned against his bike and lit two cigarettes with one match. I looked at his tall, thin frame. If he weren't so skinny you'd say he was a stud. Still, a cigarette looked out of place on his boyish face. Perhaps conscious of the people who had called him Baby Face before, he always wore one-day-old stubble. He passed a lit cigarette to me. I took a puff and let it out in the cold night air.

  We stayed quiet for a moment and I was thankful to Vroom for that. One thing guys do know is when to shut up.

  Vroom finally spoke, starting with a neutral topic. “I need a break. Good thing I'm going to Manali next weekend.”

  “Cool, Manali is really nice,” I said.

  “I'm going with my school buddies. We might ride up there on bikes.”

  “Bikes? Are you nuts? You'll freeze to death.”

  “Two words: leather jackets. Anyway, when have you been there?”

  “Last year. We went by bus, though,” I said.

  “Who did you go with?” Vroom said as he looked for a place to flick ash. He found none. He stepped to a corner of the parking lot and plucked two large leaves from a tree. We tapped our cigarettes on the improvised ashtray.

  “Priyanka,” I said and turned silent. Vroom didn't respond either for ten seconds.

  “Was it good?” he finally said.

  “Yeah, it was great. Apart from the aches from the bus ride,” I said.


  “Why, what happened?”

  “We took a bus at four in the morning. Priyanka was in her anti-snob phase, so she insisted we take the ordinary slow bus and not the deluxe fast one. She also wanted to enjoy the scenery slowly.”

  “And then?”

  “The moment the bus reached the highway, she leaned on my shoulder and fell asleep. My shoulder cramped and my body stiffened up, but apart from that it was great fun.”

  “She's a silly girl,” Vroom said, letting out a big puff, his face smiling behind the smoke ring.

  “She is. You should have seen her back then. She used to wear all these beads and earthy clothes she bought from Fab India all the time. And then she'd sit with the truck drivers and drink tea.”

  “Wow. I can't imagine Priyanka like that now,” Vroom said.

  “Trust me, the girl has a wild side,” I said, and paused as her face came to mind. “Anyway, it's history now. Girls change.”

  “You bet. She's all set now.”

  I nodded. I didn't want to talk about Priyanka any more. At least one part of me didn't. The rest of me always wanted to talk about her.

  “An expat Indian catch, Microsoft and all. Not bad,” Vroom continued as he lit another cigarette. I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “What?” he said. “It's in my daily quota. It is only my third of five.” He exhaled a giant cloud.

  “It's a little too fast, isn't it?” I said.

  “What? The cigarette? I need it today.”

  “Not that. Priyanka's wedding. Don't you think she's moving too quickly?”

  “C'mon, man, you don't get matches like that every day. He's in freakin' Microsoft. As good as they get. He is MS Groom 1.1—deluxe edition.”

  “What's the deal with Microsoft?”

  “Dude, I'm sure he packs close to a hundred grand a year.”

  “What is that? A hundred thousand U.S. dollars a year?

  Vroom nodded. I tried to convert one hundred thousand U.S. dollars to rupees and divide it by twelve to get the monthly salary, but there were too many zeros and it was a tough calculation to do in my head. I racked my brain for a few seconds.

  “Stop calculating in rupees,” Vroom said and smiled. “Priyanka's got a catch, I'm telling you.”