This shit just amuses the hell out of me.
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Tuesday, December 19, 2006
This shit just amuses the hell out of me.
Friday, December 01, 2006
"You know I care for you Danielle, but this will be the last time we speak unless you contact me directly. True friendship can't exist when one party is paying for it."
It was about eight years ago a man said those words to me. He'd been calling often, and for extended periods, sometimes intentionally hanging on the line until he fell asleep to the sound of voice as I read mystery novels aloud. While I didn't have any romantic feelings for the man, I was concerned for his middle class income and an apparent penchant for downward spirals into reckless spending.
Not that there was much I could do about it.
I know many would rightly say I contributed to the man's addiction and encouraged him to keep calling. Those people would point out how easy it is to hang up a phone and save him the money. I won't feel harshly toward those accusations, (who could I? I just posed them myself,) I enjoy my own self-rightousness too much to deny it in others. I will, however, defend myself to both my accusers, and my guilty conscience.
I was not the owner of the company I worked for an had no control over who called me, how often, or how much they were permitted to spend. And hanging up on a caller was strictly forbidden.
I had college to pay for, and a small child to raise by myself. I was in no position to risk my job for the sake of someone who's problems began before he spoke with me and would continue after our conversations ended. I couldn't stop his addiction, the best I could do was to discourage him from overextending himself. I did so gently, and in soft terms for the benefit of any monitors who may have been listening. "I want you to take care of yourself so you can keep calling me, babe."
Unfortunately, my concern for his well being, only served to bond him to me more closely, and for three months, his calls increased in frequency and duration. Though he regularly encouraged me to contact him outside of the work line, he accepted my protestations both of loyalty to the company who had hired be, and of the fear of being fired.
I realized it might have been kindest to be cruel, to make him believe, without being overtly rude, that I cared nothing for him and that he'd been foolish to think so. And while it was the truth, I couldn't bring myself to say so. He was obviously in great need of a kind word and warm voice. He'd been recently divorced and his ego needed reassurance before facing the world of romance again. The very fact he thought he was falling in love with a stranger on the phone made me think he needed kindness more than money.
To a point.
Shortly after I realized how deeply he was digging himself, I presented the owner with my case for blocking his calls. "It's easier to get $300 from someone than $3,000 or $30,000."
"The credit company knows what he can afford, they're the ones letting him call," was my boss' dismissive response.
I quickly began looking for another company to work for. Lest you think I'm in some way motivated by honorable sentiments, let me disillusion you. I just figure a man who doesn't mind putting his customers in the poorhouse wouldn't mind screwing me out of a nickel here or a dime there.
I left the company a short time later, but not before my caller had his moment of clarity. I applauded him when he stopped calling, wishing him all the best in the world.
The nest company I worked for limited calls to 30 minutes. Being a busy call center, a caller who tried to get back with the same operator was unlikely to manage it. Serious seeming romance didn't blossom on the phone again for the next few years. Especially as I'd moved into management, taking only occasional calls as a teaching aid.
I'm back on the lines again now, working for a company which caters to a more upscale clientele. Calls are longer and more involved. The women working the lines are all very knowledgeable about sex, fetish, and some psychology. We are fantasy artists and take pride in our work. And we also build relationships with our clients.
For the most part, the callers understand the deal and we work together with mutual respect as we call each other filthy names. But sometimes, every once in a while, there's a guy who imagines himself in love.
Here I'm going to be arrogant and speak on behalf of all my colleagues who take their jobs seriously and do an exceptional job.
When you call us, it's important to understand that our job is not simply to make you orgasm.. it's to make you feel good. If it takes a bit of stroking your ego along with stroking your cocks, we'll do it. Enjoy the rush of the compliment when you receive it, but don't consider it too highly as proof of our esteem.
You know we won't give you our addresses and home phone numbers, please understand that these aren't the only steps we take to protect out identities. The vast majority of us use fake names, and more savvy operators will never admit to having children, pets, spouses, or sometimes even neighbors. To ward off the extreme calls, we don't admit to having anyone or anything we wouldn't want to talk about having sex with.
Since we can't admit to where we live or who we know, there are many more things we can't discuss with you. The tornado which ripped through our garage will go unmentioned, for fear you could google the news story and find out who we are. A beloved friend with a unique career will go unmentioned for the same reason. These are just a few examples of how we keep barriers between us.
With all these precautions we take, it's simply not possibly for you to know who we are. What you think you know about our interests or activities are likely lies to make us fit your idea of the perfect companion.
We research different hobbies, areas, and interests, all so we can speak with you intelligently and become your prefect women. We collect stories of other people's adventures to share with you as if we'd experienced them first hand. In this way, a man who rides in the rodeo can hear how I broke my collarbone while learning to barrel race, even though the accident actually happened to another caller.
Through the phone we are courtesans, we are geishas, we are chameleon enchantresses, but we are not ourselves.
If, during the call, you believe we love you, we've done our job. But just like at the movies, when the curtain goes up, it's time to stop suspending your disbelief and remember that it was an illusion.
Enjoy the call. Embrace the feeling while you have it. But don't imagine you love us or we you. You have no idea who we are.
Posted by Operator15 at 2:37 AM