Operator
002
“What do you mean I don't get my pay until next week?” I scream into the receiver. “Are you fuckin’ retarded or something?”
It’s been two weeks since I’ve been paid properly and I was downright furious. I swear that in the future, when I’m some multi billionaire, I’m going to sue my boss for everything he’s got, along with the other twenty two of my colleagues who on their cells right now.
“Look guys, look!” Gordon, our boss, shouts over the chatter. “we’re just having a bit of trouble with our finances and—“
“How can a phone-sex line have trouble with finances?” Levy, some other co worker in the shared conversation snaps, “we all get paid two bucks a minute and each customer only lasts what… six? That’s twelve fucking dollars, is that so much to ask?”
“Well no, but—“
“I did three hours yesterday!” Keven complains loudly. “And there’s some kinky shits out there, you know? I want my three hundred and sixty worth, man!”
“Don’t you even bother to collect the money the customers are supposed to pay?” someone asks, “unless you're too busy spending it all on yourself!”
A bunch of distant ‘yeah’s’ and ‘what he said’ chime through the line. Gordon sighs.
“You do know that I didn’t call just to tell you that I couldn’t pay you this week,” he starts. “I’m afraid that we’re going have to um, let a few of you go.”
“Let a few of us go?" a guy I didn’t recognize speaks up. “What… what does that mean?”
“Do someone need to explain?” Keith says dully. “After this conversation is over, a few of us will become un employed.”
After that was said, I can swear I hear a few of the pansies crying.
“So how many you gonna keep?” I ask, my hopes beginning to swell up, “’cause you know, I actually wouldn't mind being fired—“
“You’re staying, Frank,” he cuts me off. “And the same goes with Levy, Keith, Oliver, Neale and Keven.”
I hear everyone who’s name mentioned groan loudly and my emotions pop a fuse.
“Only six of us?” Keven asks, sounding confused.
“Yeah, six,” he confirms.
“So you have twenty two guys working for you," I start slowly, “and you’re only keeping six?”
“Yeah,” Gordon repeats. I couldn't help but snort.
“You’ve just fired eighteen people, man,” Oliver smirks, “sounds like a lawsuit just waiting to happen.”
“Who’s gonna sue me for firing them from a sexual profession?” Gordon retorts, sounding arrogant, “besides, you guys should be thanking me anyway.”
“Why?” Levy questions. “We're still hired to the lowest job I can think of.”
“With less employees, I can pay you guys more,” he says in an annoyed tone, ignoring the remark.
I heard a few murmurs of excitement with nearly a dozen clicks signaling that some of the fired had hung up.
“Why’d you choose to keep us anyway?” Keven asks. I hear Gordon shrug.
“You guys get the best time,” he replies. “And the best feedback.”
I roll my eyes, remembering the last customer I gave services to who had the mind to compliment me on my skills of dirty talking. I chuckle inwardly at recalling his reaction when I had told him to shut up and give my boss his credit card number.
“Let me guess,” Levy snorts, “Oh my god! That guy made me feel so good! You can’t ever fire him!”
Everyone laughs heartily except for me and Gordon. My guess is that we're the ones with a better sense of humour.
“Actually,” he says once the giggles cease, “yeah.”
“You're kidding right?” Oliver chuckles, still taking it all as a joke. I hear Gordon shake his head.
“Nope,” he answers. “Most of your customers are lonely fifteen year-old guys or Viagra abusing seniors; they can't tell their packages from dick to balls. Anyway, either or, I still get business.”
I narrow my eyes and furrow my brows together as my mind registers that as an insult.
“Is that all this is about?” a voice I recognize as Neale’s suddenly say. “You getting your money?”
“Pretty much.”
That's the last thing we hear him say before his line goes dead. Suddenly, I feel my pupils dilate and it takes all my will power not to crush the phone with my fist.
I feel like going to break someone’s jaw tomorrow.
“So we’re the only ones working for that jackass now?” Oliver asks. A few of them murmur a ‘yeah’ in response.
“Damn.”
An awkward silence budges its way into our conversation, settling over us like a thick blanket.
“So,” someone goes after a few minutes, “anyone get some lately?”
Scratch breaking someone’s jaw, I’m going to push them off a cliff.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve been paid properly and I was downright furious. I swear that in the future, when I’m some multi billionaire, I’m going to sue my boss for everything he’s got, along with the other twenty two of my colleagues who on their cells right now.
“Look guys, look!” Gordon, our boss, shouts over the chatter. “we’re just having a bit of trouble with our finances and—“
“How can a phone-sex line have trouble with finances?” Levy, some other co worker in the shared conversation snaps, “we all get paid two bucks a minute and each customer only lasts what… six? That’s twelve fucking dollars, is that so much to ask?”
“Well no, but—“
“I did three hours yesterday!” Keven complains loudly. “And there’s some kinky shits out there, you know? I want my three hundred and sixty worth, man!”
“Don’t you even bother to collect the money the customers are supposed to pay?” someone asks, “unless you're too busy spending it all on yourself!”
A bunch of distant ‘yeah’s’ and ‘what he said’ chime through the line. Gordon sighs.
“You do know that I didn’t call just to tell you that I couldn’t pay you this week,” he starts. “I’m afraid that we’re going have to um, let a few of you go.”
“Let a few of us go?" a guy I didn’t recognize speaks up. “What… what does that mean?”
“Do someone need to explain?” Keith says dully. “After this conversation is over, a few of us will become un employed.”
After that was said, I can swear I hear a few of the pansies crying.
“So how many you gonna keep?” I ask, my hopes beginning to swell up, “’cause you know, I actually wouldn't mind being fired—“
“You’re staying, Frank,” he cuts me off. “And the same goes with Levy, Keith, Oliver, Neale and Keven.”
I hear everyone who’s name mentioned groan loudly and my emotions pop a fuse.
“Only six of us?” Keven asks, sounding confused.
“Yeah, six,” he confirms.
“So you have twenty two guys working for you," I start slowly, “and you’re only keeping six?”
“Yeah,” Gordon repeats. I couldn't help but snort.
“You’ve just fired eighteen people, man,” Oliver smirks, “sounds like a lawsuit just waiting to happen.”
“Who’s gonna sue me for firing them from a sexual profession?” Gordon retorts, sounding arrogant, “besides, you guys should be thanking me anyway.”
“Why?” Levy questions. “We're still hired to the lowest job I can think of.”
“With less employees, I can pay you guys more,” he says in an annoyed tone, ignoring the remark.
I heard a few murmurs of excitement with nearly a dozen clicks signaling that some of the fired had hung up.
“Why’d you choose to keep us anyway?” Keven asks. I hear Gordon shrug.
“You guys get the best time,” he replies. “And the best feedback.”
I roll my eyes, remembering the last customer I gave services to who had the mind to compliment me on my skills of dirty talking. I chuckle inwardly at recalling his reaction when I had told him to shut up and give my boss his credit card number.
“Let me guess,” Levy snorts, “Oh my god! That guy made me feel so good! You can’t ever fire him!”
Everyone laughs heartily except for me and Gordon. My guess is that we're the ones with a better sense of humour.
“Actually,” he says once the giggles cease, “yeah.”
“You're kidding right?” Oliver chuckles, still taking it all as a joke. I hear Gordon shake his head.
“Nope,” he answers. “Most of your customers are lonely fifteen year-old guys or Viagra abusing seniors; they can't tell their packages from dick to balls. Anyway, either or, I still get business.”
I narrow my eyes and furrow my brows together as my mind registers that as an insult.
“Is that all this is about?” a voice I recognize as Neale’s suddenly say. “You getting your money?”
“Pretty much.”
That's the last thing we hear him say before his line goes dead. Suddenly, I feel my pupils dilate and it takes all my will power not to crush the phone with my fist.
I feel like going to break someone’s jaw tomorrow.
“So we’re the only ones working for that jackass now?” Oliver asks. A few of them murmur a ‘yeah’ in response.
“Damn.”
An awkward silence budges its way into our conversation, settling over us like a thick blanket.
“So,” someone goes after a few minutes, “anyone get some lately?”
Scratch breaking someone’s jaw, I’m going to push them off a cliff.