Confessions of a Call Center Gal: a novel (19 page)

Before we can pump Truong for details, The Führer stands up from her watch post and cracks her whip. “Girls! Get to work!”

Kars skulks off to her cubicle while Truong and I pretend to look busy at our desks.

As I am loading up my apps, it suddenly dawns on me.

This means Bob is out of Karsynn’s life
forever
. I can’t wait to share this fab news with Janis. Her skillfully orchestrated Jaw Surgery Plot was a success. But this is even better.

Truong whispers, “
Pssssst
. There’s more to it.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

He fills me in on all the salacious details. “Apparently, Bobby overstepped his boundaries, and that dipshit was having affairs with
several
women, one of them who just so happens to be Adnan’s wife.”

I draw a blank. “Who’s Adnan?”

“He’s the Armenian security guard.”

My eyes widen in horror. “Scandalous.”

Truong lowers his voice. “Girl, this is beyond scandalous. You don’t mess with the Armenians
period
. Adnan and his Armenian army organized a bloodless coup d'état. They planned this whole thing strategically and tactically. You see, Bob is no knucklehead. He knew that there were cameras in the parking garage, and he was so dang sure that he was in a blind spot. But what he didn’t know was that Adnan and his boys installed
extra
surveillance cameras.”

I gasp, “This is more twisted than a Chuck Palahniuk novel.”

Truong giggles devilishly. “The plot thickens! Adnan and his army remained vigilant. As soon as Bob slipped, they were there to capture it all. And the next day, they handed the evidence to Dick Jones.”

Abruptly, The Führer stands up, face like thunder. “Madison Lee, Truong Nguyen, GET ON THE PHONES!”

My hands tremble as I scramble for my headset. I’m about to take my first call when I notice a Starbucks caramel frappuccino sitting on my desk. It’s topped with whipped cream and drizzled with caramel sauce. The decadent treat sits next to my phone in all its caffeinated glory.

“Truong, is this from you?”

“Uh huh. And I got it with skim milk too.”

I beam at him. “Thanks, Truong! You’re the best!”

Hours later, I’m no longer singing Truong’s praises. Slumped on a chair in the HR office, I curse Truong and his stupid email for getting me and Kars in this stupid predicament.

Kars is in the hot seat next to me.

“Do you think they’ll fire us?” she asks anxiously.

My stomach churns with dread. “I don’t know...”

It had all started innocently enough with a silly joke email that Truong forwarded on to me, a joke that’s been floating around the web for quite some time now. And
t
hat
email is now printed out and sitting on Linda the HR Manager’s desk.

This is the damning evidence of the crime brought against us:

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Subject: FW: Learn to Speak Chinese in 5 minutes

1) That’s not right—Sum Ting Wong

2) Are you harboring a fugitive?—Hu Yu Hai Ding

3) See me ASAP—Kum Hia Nao

4) Small Horse—Tai Ni Po Ni

5) Did you go to the beach?—Wai Yu So Tan

6) I bumped into a coffee table—Ai Bang Mai Ni

7) I think you need a face lift—Chin Tu Fat

8) It’s very dark in here—Wao So Dim

9) I thought you were on a diet—Wai Yu Mun Ching

10) This is a tow away zone—No Pah King

11) Our meeting is scheduled for next week—Wai Yu Kum Nao

12) Staying out of sight—Lei Ying Lo

13) He’s cleaning his automobile—Wa Shing Ka

14) Your body odor is offensive—Yu Stin Ki Puh

15) Great—Su Pah

16) Where’s the restroom?—Ai Pe Nau

17) I absolutely agree!—No Daut

18) Jesus child—Ho Li Boi

19) Cough up some dough!—Pei Nau

20) Go for a ride for free—Hit Hai King

When I read that email, I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair. And I thought it was so funny that I forwarded it to Kars. Over my lunch break, I decided to check up on her. Kars has a tendency to bottle up her feelings, and I wanted to make sure she was okay.

I found her sitting at her desk, looking solemn and subdued.

“You okay?” I asked gently.

A tear gathered at the edge of her eye, and I stood by Kars, doing the best thing a friend could do—I listened as she poured her heart out.

After Kars got everything off her chest, she actually started feeling sorry for Bob. “I wonder if he’ll be okay; I mean, he’s lost his job, his marriage is in shambles…” she mused out loud.

Bob was not my concern, Karsynn was. She had hit rock bottom and I wanted to lift her spirits and help her forget all about that awful man-whore, that slithering snake in the grass. Then a thought occurred to me. “Kars, have you checked your email today?”

“No,” she replied absently.

My eyes twinkled with mischief. “Pull it up,” I instructed.

In hopes of getting a chuckle out of Kars, I read each line out loud, in what I hoped was a very convincing Chinese accent. I got all the way down to #10: This is a tow away zone. Altering my voice and channeling Jackie Chan, I said, “
No Pah King.”

It worked! Karsynn keeled over laughing.

And she got in on the action too. While I recited #12: Staying out of sight = Lei Ying Lo, Kars channeled Chow Yuen Fatt, Jet Li
and
Kung Fu Panda by whipping out the Kung Fu Crane Stance, followed by a drop kick, and finishing off with a Kung Fu Reverse Punch.

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Kars looked like a Shaolin Panda monk.

It was all quite harmless fun, and comical really, speaking Chinese while Karsynn whipped out more kung fu moves. Until The Führer came along.

Very quietly, she stood behind us and cleared her throat.

My back shot up! Ramrod straight!

Kars froze in the midst of a Kung Fu Lotus Stance.

“What were you doing?” Hillary snarled in an eerily low voice.

My blood ran cold, terror ripping through my nerves. I tried to open my mouth and speak, but it had gone bone dry.

“WHAT WERE YOU DOING?” The Führer screamed and I jumped out of my skin. “ANSWER ME!” she roared like a lion.

“Err...I…was...um…speaking Chinese?” I squeaked like an overwrought mouse.

Kars released a nervous laugh. “Um yeah, Mandarin is one of the hardest languages to learn.”

Hillary made a vicious sound of protest. “YOU WERE NOT SPEAKING MANDARIN!”

Kars and I blinked.

Hillary seethed. “Is that all you two were doing?”

“I think so.” I scratched my head, pretending to be foggy on the exact details.

At this point,
Kars had completely lost it. Hugging herself tightly, she rocked back and forth, babbling on like a crazed homeless woman. I
n the midst of muttering something indistinct, she darted me a
look,
and I instantly realized that it was all a ploy to throw Hillary off the scent. But it didn’t work.

Hillary snarled, “Let me just see for myself.”

I lurched forward. “There is nothing to see,” I said in a sudden panic.

Like a raging lunatic, Hillary elbowed me aside and planted herself in front of Karsynn’s computer. We shrunk back in a corner as Hillary read the entire email. To add insult to injury, she read each line out loud in a dry monotone, without a Chinese accent, and with no sense of humor whatsoever. It was painful, like hearing Chairman Mao tell a joke.

Then Hillary flew into a blinding rage and launched into this huge tirade about the political
in
correctness of our actions.

“My niece is Chinese! And I don’t appreciate you mocking her language,” she shrilled.

I stood there, paralyzed.

Hillary threw Kars a vicious glare. “Or her culture!”

Kars mumbled, “I was merely celebrating it.”

“WHAT?” yelled The Führer.

“N-nothing,” Kars stammered, the tremor in her voice unmistakable.

Hillary continued giving us an earful, and we quickly learned that her sister had adopted a little girl from China, hence, she took what we had done
very
personally. In fact, Hillary was so incensed by the implication and so fueled with outrage that she marched us straight to the HR office.

Fast forward to now…the air is zinged with tension and Linda from Human Resources stares down her hawkish nose through her bifocals at us, looking like a ferret faced Judge Judy.

Linda glances from me to Kars, and then back to me. Pursing her thin lips, she shakes her head reproachfully.

My stomach lurches. I hope we don’t get fired.

While we sit and stew in our seats, Linda consults the thick Employee Handbook. Her lips tighten, and there is an increased intensity in the lines around her mouth. The more she studies the handbook, the deeper the lines and creases become. The seconds tick by, the tension crackles and mounts, the silence seems too heavy to bear.

I don’t want to lose my job over this. I need to do
something
.

Before Judge Linda has a chance to pass her verdict, I jump in and blurt out, “In our defense, Linda, just because we find a racist joke funny, that doesn’t make us racists. And, also, I happen to be half Chinese.”

My sudden outburst emboldens Kars to speak. “Yeah, I think it’s important to be able to laugh at yourself. That movie
Borat
had me in stitches, but it doesn’t make me anti-Semitic. I’m Jewish for crying out loud.”

“I know,” I pipe in. “I thought the movie
Bruno
was hilarious, but that doesn’t make me homophobic.”

Karsynn adds fiercely, “Yes. I’m all for the LGBTs!”

Linda shoots us a puzzled look. “BLT sandwiches?”

“No,” I rush to explain, “LGBTs means Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals and Transgenders.”

I’m a bit surprised that Linda doesn’t know the lingo. It should be common parlance for someone who works in HR.

Kars says plaintively, “Yes. So as you can see, Linda, we love everyone. We’re cultured and diverse people. We’re innocent and this is a simple open and shut case. And, um...the prosecution rests their case.” She paces up and down the room as if she was a top notch attorney at law.

Linda blinks.

“And that email is not even racist,” I add. “Even Truong found it funny, and he’s the one who sent it to me.”

Linda jams her bifocals up her nose, only to have them slip back down. “Now that’s entirely different,” she says with a petulant twist of her lips. “Truong is Chinese, so it is entirely okay for a Chinese person to be tickled by a joke about Chinese people. But what you girls did is politically incorrect,” she says severely.

Hello.
I’m the one who is part Chinese; Truong is Vietnamese,
not
Chinese. But I’m not a narc, so I don’t reveal this. Plus, if I get Truong in trouble, I’m sure the sushi rolls and Starbucks fraps will be a thing of the past.

Linda flicks off her bifocals in a dramatic fashion and leans back in her Herman Miller Aeron chair. “Let me give you girls an example. Now myself, being a Caucasian, I would
never ever
call an African American a nigger. However, it’s entirely okay for an African American to call himself one.”

Kars and I exchange horror filled glances, then we stare at Linda in alarm. “But you—you just said the N word.”

Linda says patiently, “I was merely giving an example.”

Now it’s our turn to glare at Linda disapprovingly. “It doesn’t matter,” I retort, filled with righteous indignation. “You’re white! You’re
never ever
allowed to use that word.”

“Yeah!” quips Kars judiciously. “Not
even
in an example. That word is off-limits! It should be wiped from your vocabulary. And the fact that you used it—it’s
racist
,” she hisses impudently.

Linda raises her eyes heavenward.

YAY! Hip Hip Hoooray! We have not only been exonerated, but we’re also off the phones for two hours! Kars and I,
and
Linda from HR, are in Diversity-Sensitivity training. The three of us are sitting in the Lightning 7 conference room, watching sensitivity exercises on the tube.

In the first scene, a Hispanic woman is on the phone and she’s talking to some guy named Jesus (she pronounces it
Hey-Soose
). After hanging up, she informs a white guy that Jesus needs some supplies at the work site. Apparently, Jesus can’t seem to get the job done without those supplies. To which the white guy replies, “What’s the matter with Jesus? (he pronounces it
Geez-Sus
) Jesus can’t make tacos and burritos without his supplies, so he’s taking an afternoon siesta?”