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A young lady trying to escape frequent harassment from an unknown stalker.
An old man trying to live life in seclusion without family and friends.
A hip “playa” from The Bronx who only wants to stay connected with all his homies and bitches.
An overbearing mother who constantly promises trouble for her rebellious daughter.
A couple who seems to know nothing other than to bicker and put blame on each other for all the hassles in their own little world.
A 5-year-old trying to pass herself as a 10-year-old. Kids.
A hotshot yuppie making his mark in the corporate world with nothing more than charm and luck.
An old woman who’s upset because she can’t talk to her granddaughter everyday.
A middle-aged man trying to keep tabs on her daughter and wife using his girlfriend’s phone.
A woman who lost her brother and father in two separate occasions within a 6-month period.
Imagine yourself having conversations with these people within a span of 11 hours. Hearing their joys and pains in life. Imagine all the stories they have about their family, their job, and their love life. Take into consideration that they’re Americans, and you’re not. Now, imagine that you’re having these conversations 4 days a week. And each day, there’s a different set of people as interesting as the ones mentioned above.
Everyday, you’ll hear countless stories. One significantly different from the other. Straight from the main characters themselves. An endless array of voices speaking tales about life, love, and loss.
Such is the life of a call center agent. A customer service representative. A specialist. Such is my life right now. As much as I want to leave my job because of the burnout days, idiotic back-and-forths, and mind tortures, I am compelled to stay. Maybe it’s because I like listening to other people’s stories. Other people’s sorrows and joys. Other people’s opinions. Maybe I just like to help people. Or maybe I’m just masochistic. I don’t know.
Thank you for reading my blog. Have a nice day! *fake smile*
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