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It shows a rich executive-looking-type sitting and rubbing his temples, making the TV face to communicate the stress of his situation. Don’t feel like having a bad day? That’s a line from one of our commercials. Some genius in Delhi figured out a transfer protocol to standardize and packetize all different kinds of experiences. Good cash flow, which the founder-now retired to philanthropy and heli-skiing-plowed right back into R&D, and turned Transfer Corp. The company started in corporate services. Parents are two thousand a piece, but depending on the situation people will pay all kinds of money, for all kinds of reasons, for bad reasons, or for no reason at all. It seems unbelievable, but it’s there, it’s almost always there, even if it’s just a glimmer of it, and even though you know it’s coming, even when you are waiting for it, in fact, when it comes, it is always still a little bit of a shock.ĭeath of a cousin is five hundred. You wouldn’t expect it–I didn’t–but anyone who has done this job for long enough knows what I’m talking about. I endure a few more minutes of the foot, and then, right before the hour is up, right when the grief and guilt are almost too much and I wonder if I am going to have to hit the safety button, there it is, it’s usually there at the end of a funeral, no matter how awful, no matter how hard I am crying, no matter how much guilt my client has saved up for me to feel. Deepak was the smartest guy in our cube-cluster, as he would kindly remind me several times a day. I figured he was probably right, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Are you sure it is the Christian God?” I asked him. More like pressure.ĭeepak, who used to be in the next cubicle, once told me that this feeling, which I call the infinite foot-to him it felt more like a knee-is actually the American experience of the Christian God. It’s not what I would call comfortable, but it’s not pain, either. Here we go, yes, this is familiar, the foot, yes, the foot. The funeral ends, and the foot is still on me, and it is hard to breathe. The infinite foot is stepping on my chest. Huge, like it fills up the whole sky, the whole galaxy, all of space. For me, it feels something like a huge boot. Different operators have different ways to describe it. The one that these people get a lot, near the end of a funeral service. I read in the paper that a new call center opens, on average, like every three days. And of course there are hundreds of emotional engineering firms in Bangalore. There’s a place in Hyderabad that is doing what we’re doing, a little more towards the budget end of things. Although, I imagine that it’s easy to be nice when you are rich and pretty.
So the faces are usually pretty, the clothes are usually nice. Need I remind you, he says, of where we are on the spectrum? In terms of low-end/high-end? We are solidly towards the highish-end. He is always walking up and down the aisle tilting his head into our cubicles and saying it. Need I remind you? That is his favorite phrase these days. As the shift manager is always reminding us. Grief, mostly, but I also detect that there is some guilt in there. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, open the first ticket of the day: I get to work late and already there are nine tickets in my inbox. Series: The Tales of Gorlen Vizenfirthe.Series: From the Lost Travelers’ Tour Guide.People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction!.
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