by J. J. Hunt
“You didn’t?” Thea asked.
Max rolled his eyes before setting his glance on them again. “I dropped out after a year, it didn’t help me. I want to be an actor.”
“Where are you from?” Thea asked.
Another eye roll followed. “West Yorkshire.”
Ollie laughed. “Shit. Really? You don’t have an accent.”
“Acting,” he said with a wink. “Nah, but seriously, who wants that accent? Unless they’re playing some role on a Channel 4 series about benefits.”
“They’re not usually roles,” Thea said, “I studied marketing at university, specifically around TV marketing.” This was code for binging on reality television.
“And you’re here?” he asked. “Not out in the wide world of television?”
“Could ask you the same, Mr. Actor.”
Candy stomped back through the door, holding three cards attached to lanyards. “It’s even company branded.” A smaller woman followed Candy into the room. She had straight slicked back brown hair and a white headband. She wore a boatneck coral shirt with ruffles around the collar, and a cream pencil skirt. On face value, she was young and she wasn’t crazy.
She smiled, waving a hand above her head to greet them. “I’m Alexa, and I’m a—”
Candy nudged her from her spot. “She’s our flingstar of the month, and a senior communications and information specialist.”
Alexa blushed. “Basically, I’ve been here since they started, so they created a pathway to a higher role.” She flicked her hair back. “Fun fact, I love Mean Girls, and there’s a—” She cupped her breasts. “—70% chance I’m getting laid on my lunch break.”
“Fun fact, I’m not wearing a bra.” Candy squeezed at the sides of her corset, causing a Mexican wave of skin. “Let’s go around and say something fun about ourselves.”
Alexa stood to the side, looking at her manicured fingernails. “Candy,” her voice boomed, picking up her gaze to see her. “Do you need me to stay or can you handle this?”
Candy stopped in her tracks, blinking. “I don’t see how much use you can be.”
She flicked the other side of her hair back. “Great.” She polished her nails on her shoulder. “Good luck,” she said, before leaving.
They stared at the doorway for a moment, in both wonder and shock, unsure whether they’d witnessed a scene study. Candy clapped once and snapped her fingers several times, regaining their attention.
“Newbies. One fact about yourself.” She pointed at Max. “Go.”
Max stumbled over his first few words. “I’m an aspiring actor, currently living out of a hotel room.”
Immediately followed by Ollie. “I went to university to get a degree in something I will never use.”
“I’m one-quarter Arabic,” Thea finished.
Candy clapped again. “You’re in my classroom. I have some rules I want to go through with you. Firstly, no leaving this room, unless it’s to the toilet or the kitchen, but try and use the large staff kitchen. We do have a small kitchen, but it can get cramped. You also have two short breaks and a lunch break. This makes one hour total of your work day that we’re paying you for.”
Max held his hand high. “Can we leave for lunch?” Thea and Ollie nodded with the same question. “I have a car, but I didn’t bring food.”
“This isn’t an asylum,” she said. “Be back on time, and you’ll be fine, but in this building, you’re confined to this room until you’re phone ready.”
Max waved his hand in the air again. “What if you’ve already worked in call centre?”
Candy cracked her fingers together. “This isn’t a call centre, we’re an operations team, making sure everyone’s pleasure and desires are fulfilled. We are information specialists!”
Thea clenched her teeth, not making eye contact with Candy, while Ollie dipped his chin to his chest as she spoke. It was Max’s second mistake, his first mistake was in the reception area, when Rosie jumped over her desk like an Olympian.
“On your break we’ll meet the supervisors and our manager. Then, I’ll take you to make coffee, and you can have a small tour, but before any of that, we need to get you set up on the system.”
“What system do you use?” Max asked, “at my previous job we used the Forex client.”
She broke out into a fit of laughter, as if it was a song. “This isn’t your previous job,” she said. “We use the Fling Integrated Client Screen, or FICS. This isn’t a pre-packed software.” She huffed. “You have a lot to learn.” She opened her drawer and pulled out branded merchandise; notepads, pens, hot-beverage flasks, all emblemed with the logo. “One each, then we begin training you into the flingstars of tomorrow.”
TWO
They welcomed their first break, after spending an hour and forty-seven minutes, listening to Candy dictate the company history. She expected every word to be noted on paper as she spoke, including her technique on dyeing hair without staining your scalp; the answer, use lube or petroleum jelly.
She twisted her wrist to see her watch. “I’ll let you go for your break and take you on a tour.” She sighed deeply, holding herself in at the corset, trying not to pop another button. “We’ve only covered the history of the company, but after, we’ll talk about what the company stands for.”
They stood and stretched after being sat for almost two hours, their limbs begged to be moved more than a wiggle of their toes. Ollie stepped on balls of his feet, pushing his hands high, almost teaching the ceiling.
“You said you haven’t found a place to live?” Ollie asked.
Max shook his head. “I arrived last night.”
“Oh, you have a spare room,” Thea said.
“Exactly.” Ollie nodded. “We’re looking for a third.”
“It’s a nice apartment too.”
“Really?” he asked.
Ollie raised his eyebrows. “Yup. Rent is five-hundred a month, not including bills, but they’re about fifty pounds.” Max nodded in thought. “Come and see it tonight, and if you like it, it’s yours.”
“Sure!”
Candy rapped her knuckles on her desk. “As promised, your tour, let’s go, and don’t forget your flasks, you can make coffee in those. Unless you want a company mug, but coffee travels better in flasks.”
Thea stifled a cough and waved a hand in the air. “I don’t like coffee.”
Candy blinked wildly. “Sorry?”
“It’s very bitter.”
Ollie lived with Thea, but only for a few days now, and even this news left him stumped, shocked by what she said. “Maybe there’s two rooms in the apartment.”
“Fine, have a tea,” Candy said, not too pleased with the news. “If they even buy tea bags anymore.” She walked off, waving a hand for them to follow.
They followed slowly behind her as she paced ahead. They’d met three people, and so far, they were looking to see who was lobotomising everyone.
They’d only caught a quick glimpse onto the main floor before Candy threw them into her flingshot to success studio; her training room to brainwash new recruits into becoming the perfect information specialists, and provide excellent head.
The floor was decorated in lines of desks, each with five computers, separated by thick dividers, and at the centre of it all was a square booth; a half-walled space, without any doors, only two gaps in the wall for entry and exit.
Everyone was quiet, speaking in low tones or not speaking at all. The basic premise of their job was to answer calls, respond to emails, and handle social media accounts to protect the brand from negativity.
The only familiar face they spotted was Alexa’s, and she stood in the control room at centre of the office space. She stood beside others, talking. One of them was familiar, a woman, the same height as Alexa. She’d conducted their interviews.
She wore a grey blazer and black pants, with her round head stiff on her neck. For Max, who’d been interviewed on Skype, she looked different. Her black hair pulled ba
ck into a stiff ponytail, it looked wet, but it was slick with hairspray.
As they approached it, stepping into the control room, they counted a total of six people inside.
Alexa waved at them. “I don’t sit in here.” She pointed to a desk, decorated in pink. “That’s my desk.”
The other five were made up of three supervisors and two analysts. Jeffrey “Rock” Grant, the supervisor of Team A, he led his introduction with “this jawline isn’t the only thing hard about me”, providing great details why his nicknamed Rock. Missy Hock, sporting a sheer red matte lipstick, and the supervisor of Team B, leading with a squeal, “aw, aren’t you all adorable, I hope you’re on the app. Look forward to seeing more of you.” And the eldest, visually, of the group was Fate Dennis, the Team Elite supervisor, with her greying mousy-brown head of hair, wrapped in a bun on top of her head, she introduced herself in a soft voice, almost a whisper. “I hope you find the sex to be up to a standard you’ve never had before.”
“Sorry?” Max asked.
Fate chuckled. “The sex, you’d better brush up on your human anatomy, know the erogenous zones, every page of the Kama Sutra, should I go on?” She glanced at Candy. “I hope you’re teaching them this.”
“And what are we discussing?” a sharp female voice pierced them from behind. The manager of the office, Veronica Tithe, a tall slender woman with even thinner hair; brittle and split at every end, and back-combed on her head. “Fresh meat, ay?”
“Newbies,” Candy said. “Showing them around.”
“We have great views.” Veronica ran a hand down her body from her breasts to her hips. “Oh, I’m your manager. Veronica, or Ronnie. Only if we’re intimate, and I would definitely remember if we’d been intimate before.” She winked at Ollie.
“I’m—” Thea began.
“I know who you are, you’re in my office, where we spin dreams and make orgasms through the internet.” She glanced off into the distance, looking out beyond the desks and windows.
The analysts didn’t acknowledge them, consumed by their computers and spreadsheets with giant noise-cancelling headsets over their ears.
“Anyway, I need to finish this tour.” Candy said, leading the newbies out of the boxed control room.
At the end of the room, stood another door, this one read ‘STAFF’, almost like they had strangers walking in and out of the building. Solely for the use by staff of the call centre. Inside, it led them to a hallway with three doors; men’s bathroom, women’s bathroom, and kitchen.
Candy gestured to the kitchen. “This is it.” She poked her head inside. “Maximum of four people, even at a squeeze.” She pushed them inside. “Go on, make your coffees, or whatever.” She nodded to them, clutching her corset as she rushed off.
They sighed against the counter. It was an ideal kitchen for one person. A small fridge, toaster and kettle, and a sink as an afterthought suspended against the wall.
“I get it’s a hook-up app,” Max whispered. “But seriously, these people are crazy. Did you see the manager? I had a view of her breakfast when she moved.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” Ollie said. “She winked at me.”
Thea groaned. “And Candy overreacted to the coffee thing, right?”
They shook their heads. “No.”
“And, I’m gay,” Max said. “And fresh from a relationship.”
“You are?” Ollie asked.
Max grabbed the kettle. “A couple weeks ago.”
“I meant, gay.”
Thea laughed. “It’s not super obvious, but when you say it, it’s like oh, okay.”
Ollie fumbled around with his hands, almost dropping his flask. “I hope you don’t think I’m being homophobic. It was just a question.”
Max grabbed Ollie’s shoulder to calm him. “Don’t worry, I get it.”
“No, I have friends who are gay,” he said. “Maybe you know them.”
“Now that’s offensive.” Max turned to fill the kettle in the shallow basin.
Candy let out a squeal to announce her presence. “One of you is gay? Thea?”
“No, no—not me.”
Max smiled, and gave a one-handed waving salute. “I am.”
“Aw, we have other gays here, and I’m a little bi-curious myself. I have eyes for a woman, and she’s a senior VP. You know, vice president, but I’m keeping it on the DL.”
“DL?” Max asked.
Candy slapped her hand against her forehead. “The down low.”
They all nodded their heads in understanding, although they’d heard the term before, it was odd hearing it from Candy.
Candy smacked her hands together. “That’s it, after break we’ll go over some essential terms. How do you expect to communicate and nurture our members without knowing the lingo?” She spun on her foot and left them again.
Thea planted her flask on the counter. “Maybe I need a coffee.”
Candy spent the remainder of the day, discussing what the company stood for. She summed it up neatly in three words. Clearing her throat before she spoke, and watching as the newbies pens hovered over the paper. “All about sex.” It wasn’t ground-breaking news. “Sex sells, and we sell rooms. I’ll let that settle in, and hope you’re brave enough to embrace your sexual appetite.”
They couldn’t leave fast enough, ahead of all the other agents in the call centre. They’d already given their visitor passes back to the receptionist, but she’d been taking a nap, slouched over her chair with her glasses on the tip of her nose.
They found Max’s car in the business centre carpark. He took one look inside and spun on a foot. “Maybe not a good idea to drive you two.” Pressed up against the windows of his car were black binbags full of clothes, and boxes of items too pressure to be thrown into a bag.
Thea looked inside, pressing her face up against the window. “It’ll be a tight squeeze.”
“We can get the tube or walk,” Ollie said. “It’s not far.”
“No, no, no,” Max said. “I offered before.”
“Fine with me.”
Max unlocked the car with a press of a button on his car keys. It had been a hot day, and the insides of the car were humid and stuffy. Thea’s face creased up as she climbed into the front passenger seat. She pinched her nose. “Did something die in here?”
Max rushed to her. “There’s a pizza box with leftover pizza.” They stared, with their lips curling and noses wrinkling at him. “I was hungry last night.”
“It stinks,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll eat it.”
Ollie grabbed the box. “I’m doing this because you seem like a decent person, but you’re not eating this.” He pulled it out of the car and threw it in a large blue refuse bin.
They squeezed into the car. Thea in the passenger seat with a bag on her knee and Ollie in the back, squeezed between boxes and bags. He’d managed to get the seat belt strap from behind boxes to strap around himself in.
“Where are we going?” Max asked, keying the ignition.
Thea shrugged, grabbing her phone, she didn’t even know the street name. “1 Harlow Street, Norbiton.”
Ollie pushed his head between the two front seats. “If you’re on Google Maps, don’t let it confuse you with the one in America.”
They waited as more people poured out of the building and climbed into their cars, men in sweat-stained shirts lugging briefcases and women wearing onesies with cats printed on them, swinging plastic bags full of confectionaries.
“We’ve stepped through some wormhole,” Max said.
Thea wrestled with a black bag, looking out over it. “Still can’t believe what Candy was wearing.” She placed her fingers at her temples to massage them. “Unless today was dress-down day.”
Ollie chuckled. “Only she got the memo.”
The apartment sat above a wine and beer shop on a corner, sitting on two streets, Harlow and Carding. The front door to the apartment was on Harlow Street, while the entrance of the
shop was on Carding Street, where the only parking available was on the main road.
“Is it safe to park out here?” he asked.
Ollie gave a thumb’s up. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Max parked up outside the door and they climbed out, thankful for fresh air.
Through the front door, it led to an entrance hall before a set of stairs leading straight to another door. Entering there were four doors on a corridor; three bedrooms, and one bathroom. At the end of the hall it opened into a large lounge, kitchen, and eating area.
“This would be your room,” Ollie said, showing off the empty room with bare furnishings; a bed frame and mattress, a wardrobe, and a nightstand.
He took one look inside. “I’ll take it and I can pay for the first month now.”
Ollie cheered, placing his hands around his mouth. “Let’s celebrate! Plan B was renting it out nightly.”
Thea joined in the cheering. “I’ll go buy wine!”
The benefits of living above an alcohol shop meant easy access, and after their day, they begged for a sip of something strong, even if it was a 13% alcohol volume wine.
They sat around on the large couches, slipping into the comfort of the cushions. Ollie ordered a Chinese takeaway, and it arrived while they finished emptying the first bottle of white wine into glasses. They’d brought all the boxes and bags from Max’s car to the room, revealing how spacious the car really was, while cluttering his new bedroom.
“What do you have a degree in?” Max stuck his fork into a piece of sweet and sour chicken, glancing up at Thea and Ollie. “You definitely said before.”
Thea rolled her eyes at the question, like she did every other time the question appeared. “Marketing, I had some internships, but the industry is going to shit.”
Ollie plated fried noodles between them. “You’re lucky. I went to get a degree in law, and you know what sucks, I don’t even want to use it.”
Max took a gulp of wine wiped his mouth sloppily with the sleeve of his jumper. “Guess neither of us are doing what we really want.”
Thea took a larger sip of wine. “Basically, I have this job because it offered corporate growth, and who knows, they might have an internal marketing hire.”
