I have never hated anyone in my life as much as I hate Julie Zemiros. The call came in, she went to the bathroom. I took it instead of her. Everything would have been fine if I hadn’t taken the call.
Most people don’t start out calling tech support cheerfully. That’s never why you call tech support. “Ah, hi?” I respond, since he spoke before I ever had a chance to.
“I’m Jay, and I’m calling about my phone,” the boy continued. He was eleven. I have no idea why I was certain of this.
“Okay. I’ll need the make and model number, your account number and what is wrong with the phone?”
He tells me everything by the book. And then informs me that his phone isn’t being jaysome.
“I totally punched the reblog button on tumblr and now my phone isn’t being jaysome!”
“Could you be more specific?”
“I’m not sure I can be? Jaysome is really pretty specific, you know!”
“No, no it isn’t. Is the screen damaged? Is the phone not turning on?”
“I think some bindings are broken, and that’s always not jaysome,” he says firmly.
“Of course it’s not.” The words just spilled out of me like they make sense. “But we need more information to make a diagnosis?”
“Uhm. Charlie says I’m not allowed to come visit you, so I’m not sure I can!”
“Do you mind if I contact my supervisor?”
“Oh, okay! Charlie’s mine, I bet.” And then he asks if we have hold music. Happily. No one has ever been happy about hold music before.
I knocked on the manager’s office. Rhonda looked up from her computer with a frown; I know for a fact we’re written up every time someone has to speak with the manager but right then I didn’t care. “Todd. I am busy right now.”
“I know, ma’am. I didn't want to bother you on lunch, but I'm not sure how to... I have a client on hold, and he keeps saying his phone is ‘not being jaysome anymore’ and is quite annoyed that's not a valid diagnosis on our end.”
We once got a call from the FBI about two of our hires. Last week four computers caught fire and Rhonda just got the fire extinguisher without missing a beat. I’d seen her tear down the district manager with a single cold word. I’d never seen her afraid before, not like this, not even of that one spider in the break room in May.
“Get an address. Tell him we’ll send him a new phone,” she said unsteadily.
“I’ll pay for it myself. Just tell him a new phone is on its way.”
I closed the door, headed back to my desk. Jay was singing along to the hold music when I turn the headset back on. In harmony with it. “Ah, Jay.”
I don’t think I ever told him my name. I tried not to think about that. “We’ll need an address to send a new phone to.”
He rattled off one, then says Charlie says he has to say sorry even if he doesn’t know why, and he can be really sorry by working for us if we need JaySupport.
“Jay support?” I repeated.
Rhonda whispered: “Dear god,” behind me in a tone only an avowed atheist could manage.
“Uh-huh! It involves lots of hugs you know!”
“I know? Ah. I – we’ll be fine.”
“Okay! Bye!” And Jay hung up.
I looked up at my boss. “I have no idea what just happened?”
“Good. You’re lucky.” And she laughed, and that sound worried me more than Jay did. “You have the rest of the shift off, with pay.”
I blinked, but I wasn’t sure what would have happened if I’d said no. I got a promotion from head office the next day, right into the sales division I’m in now. I know nothing about sales. I’m not good at it. I hate it, but I don’t seem able to get fired.
An hour ago, I sold someone a new Galaxy Note 7 despite the fears of it blowing up by telling them it was a very jaysome phone. It worked. It worked so well that I’m terrified. I never want to do it again. I think I might have to, in order to sell more products.
I wish, more than I’ve wished for anything in my life, that Julie Zemiros had taken that call like she was supposed to.
