Long Distance Harassment

I am sitting in front of the computer, locked in my office, working flat-out to meet a client deadline.

Too many apps are running at the same time. The computer is groaning; the old machine is distressed. I think I’m having some kind of JavaScript, CSS and Fireworks breakdown. The phone rings…

I pick up the handset. There is a slight pause, then a crackle. A man speaks; there is an echo. A man with a Delhi accent tells me his name is Ken and that he has some good news. He asks me to confirm my name and telephone number. I tell him the information he has is correct.

Ken continues. He tells me that his computer has randomly chosen my name and that he is delighted to tell me I have won an all-expenses-paid European holiday. He stresses the word European.

As he speaks, I hear a clatter of background noise: hundreds of other telephone workers chattering away to other lucky customers. Ken tries his best to sound excited and enthusiastic, but it doesn’t work. I tell him I’m not interested. He doesn’t appear to listen… he continues to talk.

Ken is unaware of my JavaScript, CSS and Fireworks breakdown. He doesn’t care about my predicament or my client’s deadline. I am rapidly running out of patience. I tell him once again that he is wasting his time. However, there is no stopping Ken. He is persistent; he continues with his long-distance harassment, his voice digitally transported across thousands of miles of space to London.

I have had enough. I slowly place the receiver back into its cradle. His excited voice is still audible, talking but not listening. However, he is now talking to himself. I cut Ken off mid-sentence.

I look up at the computer screen. It has frozen. I decide it’s time for a cup of tea.