Point of No Return
by Kristen Bartels
Have you ever been a roller coaster that has a Point of No Return sign at the top of the first hill? I remember the first time I saw that sign; in my head I thinking that it didn’t make sense to have the sign there. Once you buckle that seat belt and get on the ride and the conductor starts it up you’re in it for the long haul. This is kind of how I felt that morning of the day that I quit my job. I don’t think I was really thinking about it but putting on my minimal makeup and brushing my teeth I could feel the bars locking around me and the excitement of the ride rushing like hot metal through my veins. When I clocked in and set up my desk for the day I could feel the cart jerking toward that first summit and the Point of No Return sign looming in front of me; warning me too late that I couldn’t turn back now.
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My unavailable light blinked harshly, reminding me that I was running out of time. James, my dreamy manager, had emailed me this morning warning me that my "unavailable time was dangerously high." I hurriedly finished writing a ticket on Mr. Douglas Wilkins account and snapped my unavailable button back off. My phone began ringing all over again; beginning another long string of angry people wanting to know why I was asking them for money. Sometimes I think people just call me to yell a faceless person; to take their own stress out on someone who they don't know and will never see. The only good thing about my job was probably break time. A very angry Mrs. Johnson was tittering on about terms and conditions being in too small of print when the clock on my phone changed to ten o'clock. My brain immediately went into break mode and I stopped listening to Mrs. Johnson. Clearing my throat very quickly I said "Ma'am, what I can do for you today is postpone your account. Basically what I'm doing is giving you some time to come up with the money for your bill before we ask start calling or mailing you again. Is that something that might help you today?" Mrs. Johnson stopped talking, took a sharp intake of breath and agreed to my offer. I quickly pushed the necessary buttons to postpone the account, disconnected the call and logged out of my phone.
If you were sitting where I was you could see that my cubicle was in impeccable order. I took pride in the fact that though there might be a lot pinned to my walls; it all had a place and a purpose. On one side were addresses and phone numbers, things pertaining to work and on the side that I looked at the most were postcards and clippings from magazines of beautiful places, side by side with my favorite poems. When a phone call got particularly bad I would just glance at my wall and my jaw muscles relaxed and my shoulders eased from their knotted position. There was also a picture of my cat on my desk. Mr. Ralph has a pension for getting up in my face when i get the camera out so it’s mostly black fur and big yellow eyes. My name is Jill, by the way, Jill Sayers. I once asked my mom why she named me Jill. At the time she had told me in sarcasm it was because she wanted to torture me from the grave. Mission accomplished mom.
I stretched and grabbed my coffee mug, making my way to the break room. I was going to need a large cup of warm coffee before I would brave the chill outside for my cigarette. In the break room there was your usual break-ees. A young girl barely 21 on the phone with her baby daddy trying to keep her voice down while ripping him a new one, a larger man with a big Tupperware filled with homemade pork chops and pasta, a twenty something business woman with high heels and a blouse that pushed the boundaries of the dress code to their limits also talking on her cell phone her hands waving around wildly describing her conversation. And finally there was me, the stereotype middle aged woman (I'd tell you my age but then I'd have to kill you) my hair graying at the temples and tiny wrinkles were starting to form by my eyes from smiling too much. My mother always called them crow’s feet, and as a little girl I thought they made my mother even more beautiful, but now I realized why she tried so hard to cover them up. I smiled at Jorge and told him his pork chops looked delicious, grabbed my coffee and stepped out the back door to the designated smoking area. My fellow break-ees were already out there, most were younger than me with tight skin bright eyes and that look that smoking still made them look cool. I could see fear in their eyes when they looked at me, knowing that someday they would become me.
"Hey kids, any good stories today?" I inquired as I lit the cigarette in my mouth. Taking a deep drag as I listened to Tommy tell a story about his favorite customer.
If you were sitting where I was you could see that my cubicle was in impeccable order. I took pride in the fact that though there might be a lot pinned to my walls; it all had a place and a purpose. On one side were addresses and phone numbers, things pertaining to work and on the side that I looked at the most were postcards and clippings from magazines of beautiful places, side by side with my favorite poems. When a phone call got particularly bad I would just glance at my wall and my jaw muscles relaxed and my shoulders eased from their knotted position. There was also a picture of my cat on my desk. Mr. Ralph has a pension for getting up in my face when i get the camera out so it’s mostly black fur and big yellow eyes. My name is Jill, by the way, Jill Sayers. I once asked my mom why she named me Jill. At the time she had told me in sarcasm it was because she wanted to torture me from the grave. Mission accomplished mom.
I stretched and grabbed my coffee mug, making my way to the break room. I was going to need a large cup of warm coffee before I would brave the chill outside for my cigarette. In the break room there was your usual break-ees. A young girl barely 21 on the phone with her baby daddy trying to keep her voice down while ripping him a new one, a larger man with a big Tupperware filled with homemade pork chops and pasta, a twenty something business woman with high heels and a blouse that pushed the boundaries of the dress code to their limits also talking on her cell phone her hands waving around wildly describing her conversation. And finally there was me, the stereotype middle aged woman (I'd tell you my age but then I'd have to kill you) my hair graying at the temples and tiny wrinkles were starting to form by my eyes from smiling too much. My mother always called them crow’s feet, and as a little girl I thought they made my mother even more beautiful, but now I realized why she tried so hard to cover them up. I smiled at Jorge and told him his pork chops looked delicious, grabbed my coffee and stepped out the back door to the designated smoking area. My fellow break-ees were already out there, most were younger than me with tight skin bright eyes and that look that smoking still made them look cool. I could see fear in their eyes when they looked at me, knowing that someday they would become me.
"Hey kids, any good stories today?" I inquired as I lit the cigarette in my mouth. Taking a deep drag as I listened to Tommy tell a story about his favorite customer.
"Bag lady called again today. I swear she has called me every day this week. I think she completely forgot about her auto billing that she had set up because she was confused why we had taken 34.97 out yesterday. She started swearing and cussing at me..." Tommy yammered on about a pretty typical call that anyone would get at the call center.
While he started in on her rant I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that I had missed 10 calls. Quickly I dismissed myself from the group and moved a few feet away to call my co-worker back. The line rang a few times before Candice picked up and I could hear the emotion in her voice right away.
“Hello?” she said her voice trembling with the tears I’m sure were cascading down her face.
“Candice, what’s going on hun?”
“I…I got fired!” she whimpered a little after this, like a wounded puppy might.
“What! How did that happen?” My mind ran through all the different possibilities like a rolodex of bad thing.
“You remember I told you that James had been hitting on me?” Candice began to tell me how she had finally confronted James about his unprofessional behavior and that he had apologized but then went straight to the general manager of their call center with lies that Candice had been putting the moves on him. And in turn she had been fired.
“Oh Candice, that is awful! Why didn’t you tell them the truth?” I was livid; this wasn’t the first time someone had been fired with no evidence of foul play.
“I tried to explain but they just told me to pack up my desk, turn in my key card and go home!” She was crying now and a part of me wanted to cry with her. When I had begun my work at this particular call center is was new and fresh and exciting. Things were really taking off for them ten years ago; but now the call center was an old, crotchety old man with nothing better to do then rag on the youngins.
“Candice, my break is over now. I really need to go in but don’t you worry. I will talk to Kim.”
I hung up my phone and put my cigarette butt in the sand. All the younger employees had already gone back inside and I was probably going to clock in a minute or two late. At this point my pristine attendance record didn’t really matter to me; my blood was boiling for the injustice Candice had been the victim of.
I remember her first day; it was about two years ago. She was so nervous she was shaking. She was wearing those giant high heels like the young girls do and such brightly colored clothing that I thought my eyes were going to bleed. But she was hired of course; anyone can do this job if they have a cool head and a small amount of professionalism. She was placed in the cubicle next to mine and we shared a wall. So when call volume low I started chatting her up and pretty soon we found, despite an age difference of almost ten years, we had so much in common. It wasn’t very long that we found ourselves finding time outside of work to hang out. Every Friday we went to Big Willie’s for twofers and call center gossip. Usually the night ended with Candice finding some cute guy to go home with and me calling the local taxi service to drive my drunken ass home. Every now and again we would take some paid time off for movies and the like, she even included me in on some her younger friends plans. I just couldn’t let Candice get thrown under the bus, especially for something that I knew wasn’t true.
When I approached Kim's desk on my way in from my break I could feel the sweat on my palms and wiped them off on the front of my jeans before I reached for the door knob. Kim's office light was on and a big "Excellence" sign in neon pink was taped to her door, the corner of which was ripped. Scooping all the courage I could find inside myself she turned the door knob and stepped inside.
"Excuse me Kim, could I speak with you for a moment?"
Kim looked away from her computer as I stepped in and smiled at me. It was a disconcerting smile; I knew she could just as easily take away my job.
"Of course! We have an open door policy Jill. Please have a seat." I sat. "Now what can I help you with?"
"Well, I got a call from Candice, on my break of course. She's pretty upset about what happened this morning."
Kim's face twitched a little when I said Candice's name, and oddly this made my courage swell.
"What I wanted to tell you was that I can confirm what she told you about James. He has been flirting with her while she's at work and generally his behavior towards her is extremely inappropriate." I paused here; I wasn't sure if she would need specific examples or if she would just take me at my word. I twisted my key card in my hands but didn't break eye contact with Kim.
"Jill, I appreciate your concern for your co-worker, but I can assure you that the actions taken were the best for both Candice and James. Please return to your phones."
"But"
"Thank you Jill. Will you please shut my door again on your way out?" She broke our staring contest and returned to her computer screen.
I was completely baffled, for the next hour I stewed at my desk, taking calls as quickly as possible so that I wouldn't get more frustrated than need be. A few of my calls were from some pretty hideous customers but I got through them in haste, watching my clock for my next break like a hawk. Of course when my phone clock blinked 3:00 I was still on the phone with one of the many crazies that call our customer service lines each day.
"Ma'am I understand that you're frustrated but I am unable to refund your banks over draft fees. Those are fees set up by the bank to ensure your protection. Without those fees the check or debit would bounce and you would be charged a fee by us. If you want those refunded you will need to contact your institution."
"Well, I understand that, but it's your charge that over drafted my account!" the customer screamed so loud into her phone that I had to pull my ear piece away from my ear.
"Ma'am, we are unable to refund those fees. You will need to contact your bank about that matter. As far as when the money came out, if you want I can change the day your auto-pay occurs if you'd like?"
"Fuck my auto-pay!" This was the second time this particular customer had swore at me and I was so tired of listening to her scream that I warned her...
"I told you before that if you swore at me again I would have to disconnect this call. thank you for calling but please give us a call back when you have calmed down a little." I disconnected that call and logged off my phone.
Finally I got another break. I could feel my whole body trembling with anger as I pulled my cigarettes out of my purse along with my cell phone and lighter.
I stepped away from desk once more but on my way outside James stopped me.
"Jill, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened to Candice." my fists clenched and I dug my nails into my palms to prevent myself from slapping him across the face.
"Oh?" I side stepped him to head out the door but he grasped my arm.
"Jill, is everything ok?"
"Let go James, now." I said firmly and stared him down.
"If you need anything, let me know" James let my arm go and I practically sprinted out the door for the parking lot.
The designated smoking area was blissfully empty; I would get my break alone so I could think. The smoke from cigarette curled through the cold air to join the clouds overcast in the sky above me. I stared after it wondering if anything was ever really free. Even the smoke had to go somewhere, even my damn cigarette had rules to abide by. I took one more long drag and sent a text to Candice
"Excuse me Kim, could I speak with you for a moment?"
Kim looked away from her computer as I stepped in and smiled at me. It was a disconcerting smile; I knew she could just as easily take away my job.
"Of course! We have an open door policy Jill. Please have a seat." I sat. "Now what can I help you with?"
"Well, I got a call from Candice, on my break of course. She's pretty upset about what happened this morning."
Kim's face twitched a little when I said Candice's name, and oddly this made my courage swell.
"What I wanted to tell you was that I can confirm what she told you about James. He has been flirting with her while she's at work and generally his behavior towards her is extremely inappropriate." I paused here; I wasn't sure if she would need specific examples or if she would just take me at my word. I twisted my key card in my hands but didn't break eye contact with Kim.
"Jill, I appreciate your concern for your co-worker, but I can assure you that the actions taken were the best for both Candice and James. Please return to your phones."
"But"
"Thank you Jill. Will you please shut my door again on your way out?" She broke our staring contest and returned to her computer screen.
I was completely baffled, for the next hour I stewed at my desk, taking calls as quickly as possible so that I wouldn't get more frustrated than need be. A few of my calls were from some pretty hideous customers but I got through them in haste, watching my clock for my next break like a hawk. Of course when my phone clock blinked 3:00 I was still on the phone with one of the many crazies that call our customer service lines each day.
"Ma'am I understand that you're frustrated but I am unable to refund your banks over draft fees. Those are fees set up by the bank to ensure your protection. Without those fees the check or debit would bounce and you would be charged a fee by us. If you want those refunded you will need to contact your institution."
"Well, I understand that, but it's your charge that over drafted my account!" the customer screamed so loud into her phone that I had to pull my ear piece away from my ear.
"Ma'am, we are unable to refund those fees. You will need to contact your bank about that matter. As far as when the money came out, if you want I can change the day your auto-pay occurs if you'd like?"
"Fuck my auto-pay!" This was the second time this particular customer had swore at me and I was so tired of listening to her scream that I warned her...
"I told you before that if you swore at me again I would have to disconnect this call. thank you for calling but please give us a call back when you have calmed down a little." I disconnected that call and logged off my phone.
Finally I got another break. I could feel my whole body trembling with anger as I pulled my cigarettes out of my purse along with my cell phone and lighter.
I stepped away from desk once more but on my way outside James stopped me.
"Jill, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened to Candice." my fists clenched and I dug my nails into my palms to prevent myself from slapping him across the face.
"Oh?" I side stepped him to head out the door but he grasped my arm.
"Jill, is everything ok?"
"Let go James, now." I said firmly and stared him down.
"If you need anything, let me know" James let my arm go and I practically sprinted out the door for the parking lot.
The designated smoking area was blissfully empty; I would get my break alone so I could think. The smoke from cigarette curled through the cold air to join the clouds overcast in the sky above me. I stared after it wondering if anything was ever really free. Even the smoke had to go somewhere, even my damn cigarette had rules to abide by. I took one more long drag and sent a text to Candice
Just spoke to Kim, no good, she isn’t listening.
I don’t think I can take it here much longer.
-Jill
It wasn’t until this exact moment that I had even considered quitting my job. I liked my job just about as much as anyone would after ten odd years of being yelled at by crazy broke people. Money does weird things to even the nicest little old ladies. After a few more drags of my cigarette my phone beeped and took it out to check what her reply was.
Straw that breaks the camel’s back?
-Candice
Yup. I believe I may have reached the point of no return.
-Jill
I dropped my cigarette and smashed it with my heel the leftover tobacco spilling out of one end like tiny burnt wood shavings. Part of me wanted to put that cigarette out in James’ eye but another part of me wanted to just give in and keep droning on like nothing had happened. I just couldn’t do that to Candice. She was worth so much more than what the higher ups were treating her as and I wasn’t going to let them get away with it; at least not without consequences.
I had a plan, now I just needed to execute it. First I needed to look up the company email and send out an email to them regarding the situation. Remember, we have an open door policy here. As I stalked into the office I started listing the steps in my head: one; send an email to corporate, two; finish shift and clock out, three; slap James in the face, four; quit my job.
It seemed like the best plan in the world, perfectly planned out (as perfect as it could be in the five whole minutes it took to draw up) and I only needed to execute it. I slid into my computer chair and pulled up my email account. I still had five minutes left on my break, just enough to hammer out an email to the big wigs out in California that were running this place (according to statistics online the mid-west has the largest volume of call centers in America). I furiously began typing in my most professional lingo possible all the problems I had seen in the last six months. I went into as much detail as I could without sounding like I was lying and kindly asking them to take a closer look at the management team. I finished it off with my contact information and badge number. My mouse hovered over the send button for a half a second, but when I finally did click it, I did so with gusto. I now entered phase two of the plan; finish my shift.
At first it was easy. I took calls like normal, but the clock seemed to creep ahead like it was in a bowl of corn syrup. My mind kept wandering to the final two phases of my plan. How I would come up with the energy to slap James I didn’t know. I had never slapped anyone in my life, and without provocation, would he file an assault charge? Did I care? My phone rang again and I pressed the call-in button and said
“Hello and thank you for calling Customer Care Collection Center, this is Jill how may I help you today?” My mouth forming the words without even thinking.
“Yeah, I’d like to know why I received a letter from your company asking for over 1,000 dollars. What is this shit?” the man’s voice was raised already, and I knew that I was in for the long haul with this one.
“Sir I would need to take a look at your account in order to tell you why you received the letter. Can I please have the eight digit account number printed on the letter in the upper left hand corner?”
I hear rustling and mumbled cuss words from the other end of the line as he attempted to locate the number.
“I don’t see and damn number… oh wait, five, one, eight, nine, one, zero, two and three.”
“Thank you sir, it will be just a moment.” I waited an extra second or two for the account to pull up, my blood already starting to boil over with frustration. I was so tired of these people calling and yelling at me for something that is so obviously NOT my fault.
I verified the man’s information with him just like I was supposed to and told him exactly why he was receiving a bill in the mail.
“Sir, your account had been transferred to us because you still have not paid the bill for your credit card. If you would like I can set up a payment plan that works best for you.”
“No. You listen to me. I paid that damn credit card bill. I’m not giving them another cent. And like hell if I’m gonna sit here and listen to some idiot collections bitch tell me what I am going to do with my god damn money!”
The last straw finally snapped my reserve and I lost my grip and the plan went crashing right through the window.
“No, you are going to listen to me you son of a bitch. You DID NOT pay your credit card bill. If one more person tells me I’m an idiot I am going to scream. Now you are going to have to pay this money one way or the other, either you can set up a plan with me now or you can wait until you are asked to appear in court. Because you are an insufferable idiot I’m going to hang up now, have a nice day, goodbye.” I snapped the disconnect button and logged out of my phone. A couple people were standing up in their cubicles peering at me with shocked looks on their faces. James was standing next to my cubicle one hand on the wall and once I was logged off he said “You’ll need to follow me Jill.”
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This is where my story began; sitting in an uncomfortable chair in James office the Point of No Return sign was about two loops back. I can’t really describe to how I am feeling right at this moment. Mostly relief but there is something else pushing at the edges of my feelings. James taps his pen on his desk and says to me, “What hell was that Jill? Are you upset about Candice? If you need to talk…” he stops here because I have stood to my feet, he also stands. I don’t say anything; I just walk up to the desk and slap James as hard as I can across the face. James stands there very still for a second his hand over his cheek, his eyes looking down. “I quit James. And I emailed the real story to corporate.” With that I turn on my heel and walk out of his office. As I pass my desk I grab my purse, pictures of Mr. Ralph and poetry.
I can feel the roller coaster that I got on this morning pulling into the stop position as I walk out the door and hand in my key card to the front desk. The high that I had been on is gone now as I am standing in the parking lot staring at my car. The locks on the roller coaster click open and I step off as I’m stepping into my car. I flip open my phone and click Candice’s name to dial it. It rings once, twice before she picks up.
“Hi! What happened? You don’t get off for an hour!” she sounds almost excited to hear what I have to say.
“I quit. Let’s get drunk.”
This piece was written for Creative writing class as our project for Fiction.
