u/jonuniverse0

She went on with her rumbling. Ugh. I hate it when people lose it and start to become passive aggressive. Maybe they think they’ll be able to overcome me and obtain what they want, in a rather stupid attempt to replicate Neanderthals. From my perspective, they’re just possessed by some sort of inner demon that makes them lose control. How funny would it be to record the whole thing and then make them listen to the tape after they calm down, maybe even replay the thing at a family gathering. Uhm, no, that wouldn’t work. People don’t correct themselves, they don’t feel ashamed for their mistakes but rather keep on pushing the theory that they were right, that is perfectly normal to get angry. Is it? I never get angry. Maybe it was thanks to my parents and the environment in which I grew up. “You need to refund me. In full. I won’t accept another answer.” she insists. I sigh after switching to mute and then resume: “I’m really sorry, but the answer is definitive. If I can help you with something else, I’d be glad to.” She’s not happy, but she gives up (as everybody would, after 27 minutes of back and forth): “Alright, I’ll call my bank, you’ll see then.” and she hangs up. What a relief! And the best thing is that it’s time for my lunch break. I select the correct status from the computer windows and rise from the chair. “Uhm.. there should be something sweet in the cupboard” I think to myself. I like sweets. Many people don’t and I wonder why. “Life is bitter, so why should I drink my coffee without sugar?” I remember someone said to me. Was it Raphael? I think so. Well, the important thing is that I had 30 minutes available to do whatever I wanted. I mean, whatever I could do inside an apartment. Usually I smoke during this time. And drink coffee. With sugar, of course. I roll my own cigarettes, even if sometimes I buy a prerolled pack, just for the sake of switching tobacco once in a while. I wonder if these moments are to be considered important, or rather they’re only insignificant little pieces of a greater picture called “my own life”. That would be a great cliché title for a picture. Overall, I appreciate these little moments, but not because I think about them in a philosophical way, as if I accept the small things in life and give them importance. No. That’s definitely not me. I just like smoking. Do I? I mean, I think I do, but I’m not so sure, since it could be the nicotine that makes me talk about cigarettes in this way. Aren’t we all controlled by substances in a way or another? Hormones, dopamine, serotonin. Chemical things that make us feel in a certain way. I wish I could be more specific and provide a formula of dopamine or something. I look at the ceiling and I notice a web. Dammit, I should really clean the apartment this month, the owner is going to come collect rent. Maybe Tuesday, it’s my free day. But I need to go to university. “One damn thing after another” is what Churchill once said. Or at least that’s what I heard from a spiritual teacher, but a quick search on the web tells me the contrary: it’s a wrongly attributed quote. So spiritual teachers lie, huh? They need to. How can someone that tells you a mythological story with the intention to make you believe it’s real not lie. He or she has to. Otherwise you wouldn’t pay thousands to go and sit for two hours listening to a possible grandfather talk about reincarnation and what not. I wonder what is the biggest lie ever told by spirituality. But my cigarette is over and unfortunately there were no sweets in the cupboard, just a sad bag of sugar that I cannot eat as it is. So I switch the light off in the kitchen and proceed to nudge the mouse, so the computer screen can light up. 27:36. That’s how much time has passed. And what have I done during this time? Thought about chemicals, Churchill, spiritual teachers. Many things traversed my mind but if I were to tell the story of what actually happened there would be only one or two sentences. I lit two cigarettes and drank a coffee. I looked for sweets in the cupboard but there were none. Simple and efficient. A modernist’s nightmare. I cannot remember if Virginia Woolf smoked but I’m pretty sure she did. It’s just my fake modesty. It’s the same when I tell Claudia that “Oh, no, it’s all thanks to you” while she compliments me on my recent work results. She’s someone new, I don’t know her very well. I started this job more or less a month ago and she’s the Quality Analyst, she makes sure that the quality of my calls is up to standards. That does not bother me, having someone listen to my calls and grade them and that’s because I’m sure of myself. I’ve been doing this job for what seems like ages. Three of four years experience in a call center is like twenty years in any other job. You become a real customer expert, like the title says. “So, I have nothing but compliments for you. Keep doing what you’re doing” she writes in the Teams chat. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate it” I reply, adding a smiling face. Why do I keep answering with a smiling face as the final gesture of communication? I wonder. Maybe it’s because I want for people to think of me as a nice guy, as someone they can trust, someone that doesn’t have anything to hide. That’s not the truth, but I like when people think of me that way. They treat me right and allow me some flexibility, especially in the workplace. If I don’t feel sick but want to call in sick, they allow it since they trust me. They might imagine me in a bed, semi-dead, with my eyes bulging out from the fever and a cup of chamomile tea with lemon on my nightstand, along with many aspirins. Yes, that would be the scene they would make up in their mind. And I would be just fine, maybe flirting with a girl at the cafeteria, writing my poems alone in the park or just.. doing some things adults do. That’s funny. We are so afraid of exposing our bodily experiences, but we’re more than open to share our inner feelings and thoughts. It’s as if we were already mentally naked, so nothing worth hiding. Everybody knows what we’re thinking. Of course that’s the furthest thing from the truth. No one knows. And that’s for the best. Because if the next customer knew that I did not care about her reservation at the Hilton Hotel, she would be less open to compliment my Italian. She had some issues with the check-in, an easy fix. Some money in her bank account. She’s happy and goes to sleep with a smile on her face. Just like the smiles I leave in the Teams chat to Mike, the pal that is taking care of me in my first month at the job. He makes sure I understand everything and we do some shadowing sessions, where he listens to my calls live and gives me advice. He’s a cool guy. And he more than gladly laughs when I tell him about the angry customer: “That was the right thing to do. With these people you just have to be cold” he tells me. I know it already, but I wouldn’t say I was cold. I listened to her for an infinite amount of time and then, kindly, told her that she can calm down, since there will be no other resolution than the one I offered. She went to sleep angry, but at least she didn’t have nightmares.