One Weird Day

Hallo

Her mobile phone display read, Six missed calls.

The caller's number was hidden. Jennifer frowned at her phone, then shrugged, threw it into her bag and proceeded to pack her lunch.

Riding the bus to work, she remembered the missed calls and took the phone out again. All the calls had come in between ten and eleven the previous evening. She had been asleep and never heard the phone ring. After a long day at work, she could sleep through a volley of cannons, let alone her phone ringing. Still, it was weird. Nobody has called her in the evenings since she had moved here. She hadn't made any new friends lately.

As the bus slowed down for her stop, she stuffed the phone back into her bag, and headed toward the door. By the time her feet touched the ground, she had forgotten about the mysterious calls. Her priority was to grab a cup of coffee before Mathew, her boss, saw her.

The call center of a cellular telephone company occupied the whole first floor, a huge open space with a maze of tiny cubicles in the middle. She had a summer job there as a customer service agent, together with dozens of other young people trying to earn some money before the academic year began. It felt like working in a constantly buzzing hive, and each evening her right ear hurt, thanks to the endless stream of noise coming through her headset. All day long, she listened as people asked questions, complained, yelled, demanded to talk to the manager, and threatened her with lawsuits—as if she was personally responsible for all their problems.

Screens on the wall displayed the number of clients on hold and the average time they spent waiting. Callers who waited fifteen minutes usually added "slow service" to their list of complaints. Those who waited thirty minutes often engaged in phone rage, and sometimes it took all her willpower just to start talking to another infuriated customer.

Mathew was nowhere to be seen, so she headed to the kitchen and made coffee. As she walked to her cube, music started to play from the depths of her handbag. She pulled her phone out and glanced at the screen. A hidden number again.

She entered her cubicle and took the call.

"Hallo."

"Hallo?" an unfamiliar female voice said.

"Yes?" Jennifer set her cup down on the table.

"Hallo?"

"Who is it?"

"Hallo?"

Jennifer frowned. The place was noisy, but not that noisy. Unless something was wrong with her phone, the caller should have been able to hear her. She cupped her hand around the microphone and said loudly, "Who are you calling?"

"Hallo," the voice replied, polite and unemotional. The caller probably wasn't alone—Jennifer was quite sure she could hear other voices in the background, whispering and giggling.

She looked up and saw Mathew standing outside her cubicle, staring at her, tapping his finger on his watch.

"Sorry, I can't talk right now."

She ended the call, and Mathew shook his head and walked on.

"Hey." Jennifer nodded at her neighbor, Linda, who briefly nodded back while listening to a customer through her headset.

Jennifer drew her long hair back into a ponytail, put her headphone on, and was just about to get into gear when her mobile started ringing again.

"Oh, come on." she muttered, picking it. "Yes?"

"Hallo?"

"I'm listening!"

"Hallo."

"Don't you hear me?"