he smiled.
Charlie found himself back in the chicken coop that was the call centre, Geoffrey George’s office door slamming behind him. All three hundred employed eyes turned to stare at him. Echoes of ‘naughty naughty’ and the occasional ‘who’s that guy?’ sounded from the back as Charlie walked sheepishly past the banks of desks to find his own little chair. He sat down and, hiding his head behind his folders, logged back into the computer ready to take the next phone call.
He was all ready for it. He would be kind and helpful and courteous. He would be happy with his job. He was Charlie Pinwright – hard working and dedicated employee of King George’s Electrical Repairs. Unfortunately the first phone call he would take was about to change all of that. It was a phone call that would change his life forever.
“King George’s Electrical Repairs, Charlie speaking, how can I help you today?”
“Yes! Repairs? Yes?”
“That is correct sir. How can I help you?”
“I need a repair! Will you come and repair?”
“Is it an electrical repair sir?”
“Yes electrical! Correct! When will you be here?”
“Where are you calling from sir?”
“In the forest. I am most definitely in the forest.”
Charlie’s mind went blank. Another nutter. Why did he always seem to get the nutters? “In the… forest?” he said slowly.
“That is correct! You will be here soon yes? How long will you be? An hour perhaps? What do you look like? It is just I do not trust strangers near my things,” said the bizarre voice coming from the earpiece of Charlie’s headset. The voice was stuttering and seemed a little confused. He spoke in erratic quick mumbles with odd variations in tone and pitch, almost like someone reading a different language without ever having any experience of speaking it.
Charlie was at a loss for words. “I am sorry sir but it will not be me that attends. I just work in the call centre.”
“Excellent, excellent! So your name was Charlie and I will see you in an hour then?”
Blood boiled. Steam fired from ears. The proverbial bull was let loose in the china shop. Charlie Pinwright’s fuse finally blew. His temper snapped.
“Look you strange ignorant nutter!” he screamed down the headset, forcing the entire office to turn and stare at him, the ones at the back doing their best impressions of meerkats. “ I work in an office! I wear a bloody five pound shirt and trouser set not dirty work overalls! I type on a keyboard and my eyes bleed from staring at a computer screen all day long! I DO NOT FIX ELECTRICALS! I wouldn’t even know where to start! And I am sick and tired of mental weirdos like yourself calling up from bloody forests making my day a living nightmare! Just one day… just the once… I want to go back to my tiny little flat, sit down to a quiet meal and relax without the gaggling sound of Turkish babble invading my space… without worrying that I am going to find any remnants of my now ex-girlfriends lover wrapped in tissues behind my furniture… and without my head throbbing from morons like you really pissing me off!”
There was an eerie silence that echoed across the call centre. Tumbleweed would have rolled across the floor if the floors of large office spaces happened to have tumbleweed randomly roaming the building. Somewhere in the distance a passing vulture crowed.
“So you won’t be coming to fix my electrical?” asked the voice on the other end of the telephone.
To say that Charlie Pinwright exploded would be an understatement. If you could imagine the force of a nuclear explosion all combined within one pasty, slightly pot bellied, slightly small man with messy hair then you are half way to understanding what happened on that cold autumn day in King George’s Electrical Repairs call centre. People actually ducked for
Charlie found himself back in the chicken coop that was the call centre, Geoffrey George’s office door slamming behind him. All three hundred employed eyes turned to stare at him. Echoes of ‘naughty naughty’ and the occasional ‘who’s that guy?’ sounded from the back as Charlie walked sheepishly past the banks of desks to find his own little chair. He sat down and, hiding his head behind his folders, logged back into the computer ready to take the next phone call.
He was all ready for it. He would be kind and helpful and courteous. He would be happy with his job. He was Charlie Pinwright – hard working and dedicated employee of King George’s Electrical Repairs. Unfortunately the first phone call he would take was about to change all of that. It was a phone call that would change his life forever.
“King George’s Electrical Repairs, Charlie speaking, how can I help you today?”
“Yes! Repairs? Yes?”
“That is correct sir. How can I help you?”
“I need a repair! Will you come and repair?”
“Is it an electrical repair sir?”
“Yes electrical! Correct! When will you be here?”
“Where are you calling from sir?”
“In the forest. I am most definitely in the forest.”
Charlie’s mind went blank. Another nutter. Why did he always seem to get the nutters? “In the… forest?” he said slowly.
“That is correct! You will be here soon yes? How long will you be? An hour perhaps? What do you look like? It is just I do not trust strangers near my things,” said the bizarre voice coming from the earpiece of Charlie’s headset. The voice was stuttering and seemed a little confused. He spoke in erratic quick mumbles with odd variations in tone and pitch, almost like someone reading a different language without ever having any experience of speaking it.
Charlie was at a loss for words. “I am sorry sir but it will not be me that attends. I just work in the call centre.”
“Excellent, excellent! So your name was Charlie and I will see you in an hour then?”
Blood boiled. Steam fired from ears. The proverbial bull was let loose in the china shop. Charlie Pinwright’s fuse finally blew. His temper snapped.
“Look you strange ignorant nutter!” he screamed down the headset, forcing the entire office to turn and stare at him, the ones at the back doing their best impressions of meerkats. “ I work in an office! I wear a bloody five pound shirt and trouser set not dirty work overalls! I type on a keyboard and my eyes bleed from staring at a computer screen all day long! I DO NOT FIX ELECTRICALS! I wouldn’t even know where to start! And I am sick and tired of mental weirdos like yourself calling up from bloody forests making my day a living nightmare! Just one day… just the once… I want to go back to my tiny little flat, sit down to a quiet meal and relax without the gaggling sound of Turkish babble invading my space… without worrying that I am going to find any remnants of my now ex-girlfriends lover wrapped in tissues behind my furniture… and without my head throbbing from morons like you really pissing me off!”
There was an eerie silence that echoed across the call centre. Tumbleweed would have rolled across the floor if the floors of large office spaces happened to have tumbleweed randomly roaming the building. Somewhere in the distance a passing vulture crowed.
“So you won’t be coming to fix my electrical?” asked the voice on the other end of the telephone.
To say that Charlie Pinwright exploded would be an understatement. If you could imagine the force of a nuclear explosion all combined within one pasty, slightly pot bellied, slightly small man with messy hair then you are half way to understanding what happened on that cold autumn day in King George’s Electrical Repairs call centre. People actually ducked for
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