© S.B. 2023 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the written permission of the author is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication - free or otherwise -, with the exception of the author's self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.
Paul Anders lit up a cigarette and blew a puff of gray smoke, his nervous hands twitching. He had been angry many times before, but this one hit differently for his livelihood was at stake. If the package didn't arrive by the end of the day, the multi-million dollar contract was as good as lost.
WorldPost was to blame. The private company held a monopoly in the transportation of sensitive goods in the country. They had always been reliable and trustworthy until the new CEO initiated a major cost reduction program that, funnily enough, didn't include her yearly bonus. After six months on the job, the quality of the service had decreased considerably, with constant delays, failed deliveries, and the number of missing packages skyrocketing. Customer service had become a joke as well.
Paul had been trying to talk to someone in charge for the past three hours. His calls had been redirected multiple times across various services, with no one being able to give him a conclusive answer regarding his missing goods. When things appeared to finally be going somewhere, they would always return to square one the following minute. He was fed up and about to explode. If that happened, he wouldn't be held accountable for any of his actions or words.
He took another drag of his cigarette and glanced at his watch. The deadline was fast approaching, threatening to take the last remaining threads of his sanity with it. The annoying waiting music continued to play on the phone atop his work desk. He would not hang up until a solution had been found.
After a few more minutes, an unfamiliar feminine voice sounded through the speaker. It was powerful yet dangerous like a high-heeled stiletto with a sleek and ruthless shank that could easily stab a person through a penny. The way she spoke immediately captured his attention.
"Mr. Anders?" she asked. "Are you still there?"
"Of course, I'm here," he angrily replied. "Who am I talking to this time?"
"My name is Tina Coleman and I'm the regional manager of WorldPost. It has come to my understanding that you're experiencing a problem with our distribution center. I'll be glad to help in any way that I can."
"Really?" Paul scoffed. "Well then, Tina, you can start by explaining to me why your online tracker states that my package arrived at your center last week and yet when I called them, they couldn't locate it anywhere. The documents within are vital for my business and if I don't receive them before sunset, I'll sue your company for every penny I lose. If I'm going down, then you're going down with me."
"I'm sure it won't come to that, Mr. Anders, but I understand your frustration. We at WorldPost strive for excellence in everything that we do, so if the customer is not pleased, we're not pleased."
"Spare me the PR mumbo jumbo. I've heard countless variations of that schlock ever since this call began. Have you located my package or not?"
"We have not," Tina replied, she too sounding somewhat annoyed. However, Paul wasn't sure if it that was legit or not. "We have a team scouring the facilities from top to bottom as we speak though, so if it's still there, we should know soon."
"If it's still there?" Paul hissed. "The package code has been entered into your system! It can't be anywhere else unless you lost it along the way and are now trying to cover your tracks, or someone stole it from your warehouse."
"An inquiry is already underway to determine what transpired. I can only ask for your patience while we strive to sort this out. There's no need to lose your temper."
"That's easy for you to say, isn't it?" Paul slammed his desk, the palm of his hands becoming red and sore. "What else am I supposed to do while my world falls apart because of your company's incompetence, huh? Sit around a campfire and sing Kumbaya?"
"Mr. Anders, I've already expressed my regrets and detailed the steps we're taking to solve your situation. Neither your outbursts nor your misguided attempts at humor will make the problem go away any faster."
"Well, fuck you, lady! The last thing I need is for a smart ass to belittle my right to indignation. We wouldn't be in this mess if you'd done your job properly from the start. Your measures mean nothing to me if I don't get those documents delivered in time, so don't you dare try to control my emotions, is that clear?"
"That was not my intention at all..." Tina muttered but this time he could tell she was lying.
He imagined the woman he was talking to. She sounded like she was in her early forties, a company woman who had worked hard to make it through the ranks of corporate America. There were no doubt years of experience and executive decisions behind those mellifluous words with which she responded to him.
Paul pictured her as standing tall, with short blonde hair swept back into an authoritative bob hairstyle and piercing blue eyes that could see right through you if they wanted to. Her beauty was imposing, with full lips masked by a thin layer of crimson lipstick, and an unquenchable ambition that cared not for excuses or explanations of any man foolish enough to cross her path.
She probably wore sleek business attire like Versace trousers complimented by long-sleeved stylish silk blouses and sat all day behind a crystal desk doing absolutely jack shit except mocking a concerned client. That was really something, all right!
"Mr. Anders, I'm going to kindly ask you to wait a little longer while I take another call," she said.
"What? No! Don't you dare put me on hold again! Don't you fucking...!"
Too late! The woman's voice went silent and was replaced by a piece of electronic music playing in the background. It differed from the track he had been forced to listen to many times already while his grievances were being transferred across the various departments of the company, with strong metallic reverbs that infiltrated his ears like nasty little parasites looking for a new host.
At first, Paul was annoyed by the sudden change in music. But then something peculiar happened. The metallic reverbs transformed into a hypnotic drumbeat that pulsated through his body like a soothing vibration. It was almost entrancing, and for a moment, he forgot about the missing package and the infuriating Tina Coleman.
Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed the music to take over him. Smooth, sultry vocals joined in with the drumbeat, floating around him like wisps of smoke. The lyrics were simple but infectious, repeating themselves over and over until he found himself humming along.
When Tina finally came back on the line, he barely registered it. His mind was lost in the music, consumed by it in ways he couldn't explain.
"Mr. Anders? Can you hear me?" she asked.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, surprised to find himself a lot calmer than before. "Yeah, I'm here," he said.
"I apologize for the wait, but I had no other choice. I just got word from the team searching the distribution center. We still haven't been able to locate your package but we're in the middle of conducting yet another sweep. Again, I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I should know more in about half an hour. Do you wish to end this call and I'll get back to you the moment I know more?"
"No," he momentarily shook the strange dizziness from his thoughts. "The call stays on until you give me a proper answer."
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Tina spoke again. "As you wish, then. Sadly, this means I need to put you on hold again."
"Fine!" he snarled. "Just fix this already."
"I will."
Paul slumped into his chair, his cigarette now worn out. The strange entrancing beat had returned, its effects spreading over his conscious and subconscious mind. As he waited for some good news to finally come his way, he couldn't shake off the unnerving sensation that he was being held under s spell. It was as if the music had lodged itself in his brain, taking root and burrowing deeper with every passing second.
