Author: Paw07 PM
There are call centers for everything in this world it seems. What if there was one even for adopted children. "Oh, hi... umm. Well, I got a problem… the kid I adopted is defective."Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 1,479 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 02-02-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2993957
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
1-800-Adopt: There are call centers for everything in this world it seems. What if there was one even for adopted children. "Oh, hi... umm. Well, I got a problem… the kid I adopted is defective."
Frank yawned hoping to pop his ears, feeling his head set shift. For a moment his gaze danced over the cubicles to see who was here and who had skipped for the day. Brown eyes falling back to his screen, the twenty-four year old sighed and promptly signed in.
He hoped it was quiet today. He really didn't care about anyone that was calling into customer service. He had his own problems so it was going to be hard to falsify empathy today.
Clocking into his phone, staring at the corner and willing time to bend to his command so this day could just be over with, but the space-time continuum would not be charmed or frightened into submission by his cold glare. Instead, there was a ping, his voice struggling to contain some sympathy, some remorse, or even an ounce of humanity as he gathered his first breath. Sometimes it was far too hard to pretend to be human. Way too much energy if you ask him.
"Thank you for calling Child Exchange and Adoption Service of America and Stuff. My name is Frank. How may I help you today?"
There was a moment of static and Frank hoped desperately that it was a 'ghost call' so that he could give the call back number and then repeat blandly that he couldn't hear the customer before he would promptly hang up.
Fate was a trickster though, cackling in the static over the line as he opened his mouth, feeling a flicker of hope that he may be able to release the call, but then there was voice.
"Uh, yeah. Hi. Can you help me?"
Frank considered stating, 'No, call back later; the systems were down', but it was best to just get over the first call of the day. Giving a sigh, he stated in an exhausted tone, "Unfortunately that's what I get paid to do. So sir, what is the nature of your problem?"
"Well, umm," said the man suddenly sounding upset.
If he was upset from the agent's comment or the fact that he was confused about what to say, Frank couldn't find himself to care either way. Why did he even come to work today? He was far too tired to care about anything else but a pillow, and having people yell at him day after day at the imperfections of youthful flesh… yeah, it was easy to state he was a pessimist.
"Why did you give me a defective child?" the caller seemed to demand.
Frank blinked, irritated more by the fact that the guy had been so vague then calling another human being defective.
Taking a swig of the drink at his work station, he asked, "I do apologize the child is… defective. I understand that could be frustrating," which is why I don't have children and promote contraceptives and abortion he thought silently before continuing, "And I'll see what I can do for you today. Now sir, what is the nature of the defect? Is it physical defects, personality defects, or what?"
"Well… he can't kick right," stated the man.
"Okay… let's pull up your adoption account," because you have no idea what you are talking about so I'll have to just guess from your account information, the call operator thought as he stated, "You're ID number please."
"Oh yeah… umm… I left it out in the car with my wallet. Just a second," stated the man, the sound of a squeaky toy echoing in the receiver.
Frowning, all Frank could think was, 'dumbass. Who leaves their wallet in their car? Ever heard of identity theft,' as he waited for the man to come back. Finally, breathless, the man answered, "Found it. The number is: 934537820."
"Awesome," stated the call operator, almost bored. "And you are… Mr. Gardener? Is that correct?"
"Y-yes, that's me. I need a refund or replacement or something. I can't have a defective child. What will the neighbors think?" the caller stated, sounding generally angry. "I have a reputation to uphold, you know."
"Again, I do apologize sir. I understand that's frustrating. Now, clarify what you mean by he can't kick?" asked the employee.
"Well, he was supposed to play with the rest of the kids in the soccer game, but he can't even kick the ball. It's like a limp fish failing to gravity. The coach actually put him on the bench. If he can't even kick a soccer ball how is he going to kick a football; he probably can't even catch a ball. How is he supposed to join football in high school and then a get a football scholarship for college? I'm not paying for college! I expected something better from your company! Are all your employees crack mothers? Couldn't she pop out some better quality?"
Frank raised a brow, wondering if he should just ask in the man wanted a manager and be done with it, but no …. this was the first call of the day. He did this all the time. He could do this.
"Again sir, we do apologize. What I will do today is that I'll label that kid as defective and he or she will be removed from normal circulation and dealt with respectively. And what I can do for you today is I'll offer you two replacement children. So, for the cost and inconvenience of the defective child you are getting one replacement child and a secondary one."
The man was silent for a moment before he stated, "I want both boys, girls are hormonal and those stupid hair clippy things hurt when you step on them. That was what happened with our first child adoption."
"If that is what you'd like. Please mind, inventory differs from agency to agency which is where you will drop off the defective child as well."
The man agreed on the phone, stating, "Yes, yes. Two boys, a backup one sounds agreeable especially since I paid more so this damaged child that was supposed to be athletic in the first place!"
Frank frowned, raising one of his brows as he added, "Ugh, actually you wanted the intellectual addition it says here in the notes, not athletic skills. You purchased intelligence originally."
Mr. Gardener huffed on the line, stating, "Well, it should be multi-gifted. One gift? That's not what I asked for!"
Frank wanted to state, 'That was what you ordered', but thought better than that. This call was already too long. They already had people waiting; probably a dozen other parents that didn't pay extra for trained skills in their purchased children. Why couldn't they just buy them for slave labor like the Midwest pioneers did for farm hands in the past? Those were good times. One couldn't get a refund for a kid that drowned in the well so the parents would just purchase a kid that could swim in the future.
"I understand. Please note additional skills need to be purchased which may cause additional fees. Now, just give your ID number to the helpful employees at the adoption home so they can pull up the notes from this call and deal with the defective child effectively, but do you have any more questions for me today?"
He could tell the man was frowning on the other line before he promptly complained, "These two better not be creepy like ghost twins or I'm going to demand a full refund, and that will be all."
Thanking god that the horror was over, Frank smiled at the call's end, actually glad it was over as he stated, "Well thank you for calling Child Exchange and Adoption Service of America and Stuff. You have a good day."
The called end with a, "You too" and why Mr. Gardener even bothered when he obviously didn't give a hell about Frank's day was beyond the agent, but he didn't really get to dwell on social cultures when his next call came in with an irritating beep.
Frowning, the words almost coming automatically as he stated in a drone voice, "Thank you for calling Child Exchange and Adoption Service of America and Stuff. My name is Frank. How may I help you today?"
He almost rolled his eyes at the first magical sentence that came over the line, "My kid ain't no good. I want my money back in my account now!"
Yeah… today looked promising. Just peachy.
© W. Plaatje