Author's note: Thanks to cvmawirenut for editing. Hope you enjoy this flash story.
When I was in school, many years ago, we were taught that Alexander Graham Bell's first words over his newly developed telephone was something like telling his assistant 'Come here.' I tell people that is wrong. The first words heard over the telephone were: 'We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty.' I usually get a laugh.
You hate me, but not for telling lame jokes. I know you do. You want proof? Okay, here it is: I am a Telemarketer. Told you so. I started out with the in-person cold calls then graduated to supervisor of a herd of callers. Now, I oversee the Robo-calls for car warranties, credit cards with special credit card rates, and replacement windows. I'm not going to tell you my real name for obvious reasons: If I meet you in a bar, you find out what I do and you're a female, you either slap me, throw the drink I bought you in my face, or walk away in disgust if not all three. If you meet me in a bar and you're a man, you just beat the shit out of me. For my own protection, I will call myself John Smith.
When I meet a new person and they ask what I do for a living, I say I am in advertising. Hopefully, they don't ask any more. I do my best to avoid telling people what I really do. Most people think that used car salesmen, IRS auditors, and telemarketers should be banned from the human species allowed in bars. I disagree. We have more need to get drunk on a regular basis than people with other occupations.
Those that find out my job usually ask, "I never respond to a telemarketer. Why in the world do they keep calling?" I answer that enough people do respond that buy enough products or services that it makes this particular way of advertising profitable. Otherwise, telemarketing would disappear. Everyone then says they wish it would.
I was slowly sucked into the job I have. I graduated college with a history and political science major/minor. Guess how many employers want someone with those credentials.? My parents and I couldn't afford a Masters, much less a Ph.D., so I went looking for work. I found out that having a college degree did not mean employers were ready to move you into a management position. My choice was to start at the bottom or stay unemployed. Guess what? It's crowded at the bottom. As bills became due and my income was short, I finally applied at the one place that never turned down a person with the credentials of being A&B (Alive and Breathing): telemarketing.
The beauty of the job I had was the potential for commissions. If I sold a warranty from a cold call, I got a bonus. With my hourly wage and occasional bonuses, I was making as good as or better than my friends with 'real' jobs. The reality of what I was making reduced my interest in jobs I thought I would like more. With promotions and a percentage of my crew's commissions from sales made it difficult to consider job offers which were usually just above minimum wage.
I needed two things to get my mind off work: alcohol and pussy, not that I considered those two things as being separated. Sure, I have had alcohol without pussy, but I never had pussy without alcohol until I was married. In hindsight, I probably should have continued to combine the two.
I'm going to skip the part of my story where I wooed and won the heart of a fair maiden. I married Jane Jones. My original plan was not to tell my dates about my work until I thought they were hooked on me. It did not work well. I either didn't get far enough along in the relationship before they found out my game or I was left with a broken heart when I got turned down after disclosing my occupation. I finally started hitting on some of the female telemarketers. I hung outside with the smokers. I discovered that most of the women smoked and many of those were not short of other vices also. I bedded a few before I picked the woman with the saddest story and the most willing to please.
Jane Jones was a single parent, kicked out of her home by her poor, religious, conservative parents who didn't believe in sex outside of marriage. The father of the child bolted when confronted. Jane had never received a dime of child support. She was close to resorting to panhandling or prostitution or both. My attention and money were welcomed with open arms. Open legs soon followed. I no longer had to seek a sex partner.
The three of us were cramped in my small apartment, but Jane did not complain. Having each other to rely on and to be with made us happier together than we were before separately. Jane and I were able to pay bills, have the basic things in life, and have sex without having to date, seduce, beg or drug someone. As the years went on, things in our marriage and family improved. Jane went to tech school and over the years became a CNA, then a LPN, and eventually, a RN. With my promotions and commissions and her blossoming career, we were able to move into a nice house in a nice neighborhood. We even drove cars that weren't more than five years old. Haley, our daughter, grew into a teenager who didn't rebel. Hard to believe, I know. All in all, our life was great. I had no idea that the marriage had peaked, and we were in the process of rolling down the other side of the peak.
My favorite time at home was when we would watch a movie with popcorn and a soda on the couch and snuggle. I guess I was insecure because I used these times to confirm that Jane was satisfied with our marriage. When life got more complicated, our sharing time was reduced along with our sex life. I should have picked up on it then, but I was caught up in our hectic life also.
Looking back, I think the problem was mostly that Jane worked among the gods, otherwise known as doctors. I'm not sure where in the sequence of nursing degrees that I became inferior to her, but it happened. Jane was supposedly having to work longer hours. I knew for sure she was spending less time with our daughter and reducing our sex lives and moments of intimacy. Her demands of me and her disrespect of me grew as the attention of doctors expanded past the supposed rules of workplace relationships. I could see the train coming down the track, but I seemed paralyzed so much, I could not jump off in time.
Hayley becoming 16 and getting her license signaled a more important milestone for Jane than Hayley. With her daughter mostly independent, it was Jane's opportunity to have the love relationship she felt she deserved. He was an older doctor whose children had grown and whose wife had run off with a younger man. It didn't bother him in the least that he stole another man's wife. To be honest, Jane probably openly gave herself to him rather than he could be considered as having stolen her. Hayley went with her mom and the most money. Hayley and I had talked and both of us thought that was best although we still saw and talked to each other a lot.
I wasn't too bad off financially after the divorce, but I decided to concentrate on my finances for a while rather than finding a replacement for Jane. Besides being frugal, I got a roommate. My parents called me. My father's brother, known as the Black Sheep of the family, was dying of cancer and needed assistance. Since I had the extra room now with Jane and Hayley gone, they thought I might be interested. He could pay a little rent and home health nurses and aides would be able to do most of the daytime care he would need. I always liked Uncle Mike. He was the uncle who told dirty jokes and tricked you into saying curse words that got your mouth washed out with soap. He gave me my first cigarette. It made me sick. I washed away the taste with the first beer I ever had.
Mike and I actually had a good time together especially the nights he felt good enough to go out and drink. He told me embarrassing stories about my Dad when he was a kid. We also drank and smoked cigars on my back patio. It was too late in his shortened life for him to be worried about the ill effects of any vice. It was too early in my life to give a damn, plus I was still pouting and sulking about my divorce.
One night, Mike got serious. "John, when I knew how sick I was, I decided I wanted to spend the rest of the time with the few people who cared about me. If I wanted to be by myself, I have enough money to pay strangers to take care of me. Your father 'tolerated' me more than the rest of the family. That's why I went to him first. He suggested that you were the one who liked me the most and could use the financial help. I want to tell you I have really enjoyed my last few months with you. I have talked with your father about my will. I had originally planned to give my money to him and your mother. He didn't want it. You see, I didn't always play by the rules in earning my money. I told him that my dirty money would buy the same good things as his clean money, but he didn't care. I asked him if it was okay if I left the money to you and he said it was up to you. So, can I?"
