The Human Part

by Kari Hotakainen

  God did exist, and God had created the widow Hakulinen.

  The beautiful red stickers indicated the progress of the products’ journey toward molding, but there was still half a day left.

  Pekka’s hands shook, and he feared he would drop the treasures on the way to his apartment. He squeezed the cartons under his arm and stopped in front of the elevator. Calling it would cause noise. Perhaps someone would open a door onto the hallway, notice Pekka and attempt to rob him of his treasures by force. He did not want to take that risk. He walked up the stairs.

  After arriving at his apartment, Pekka warmed both cartons, poured them into a bowl, took a large spoon and scraped warm mashed potatoes and shredded reindeer meat into his mouth. He thought of the potato, which had grown up in the same land as he had, and the reindeer, which had once roamed free over hill and dale as he did. He felt he was at one with the potato and the reindeer, part of all the eating and killing, living and dying, and taking and giving in the world. It was with these thoughts that Pekka fell asleep on his cot, satisfied, having received his part.

  POSTCARD, HIGH STREET

  My little Maija!

  When somebody better comes along, as always happens in life, don’t fret. He might be better in one area, but worthless outside it. Remember the carpenter who built our porch. A conscientious worker, but on the weekends he was singing Top 40 covers with his shirt unbuttoned to his navel. We’ll be digging the new potatoes next week. This is a hint.

  Your mother

  THE AGENT

  Maija Malmikunnas turned the microphone attached to her head down in front of her mouth and concentrated. The basic details about four different magazines and their current special offers lay on the table before her. Maija repeated them to herself quietly, attempting to also remember the unit manager’s instructions.

  If the customer isn’t interested, throw out some bait. If the customer is in a hurry, ask for an opportunity to call again. If the customer is grumpy, turn her attention to the bonuses. If the customer gets aggressive, do not under any circumstances become provoked and don’t take it personally. If the customer has had bad experiences with the product in the past, tell her it has been revamped. But above all, remember: bait, bonuses, subscriber gifts. Maija punched in a number and waited.

  Turpeinen residence.

  Hello, this is Maija Malmikunnas on behalf of Periodicalls. Did I call at a bad time?

  Yes.

  Lovely … I mean, not in that sense, but in that may I say that you have been chosen in our sweepstake for a great opportunity …

  I’m not buying anything.

  Of course not, but let me just say that you have been chosen out of thousands of people for the opportunity to try at a nominal cost …

  The phone clicked in Maija’s ear.

  She looked out, down onto the parking area where the cars stood covered in a wet mat of leaves. The cars were all beaten up and ugly, like all become eventually. Maija thought about what former salespeople become, the ones who can’t stand to call anyone anymore. Could you pick a former salesperson out of a crowd? Do they look like the one-time pop singers who you would never believe had ever been the cause of so much youthful infatuation? Does a salesperson have an identity at all, or is she the part of the food chain that no one ever thinks about, a bit like soy sauce, the basic seasoning in all Chinese cuisine, which you just splash into the wok as a matter of course? Does anyone remember salespeople?

  Maija realized that her minute had passed. The unit manager had stressed that after a humiliating phone call it was a good idea to take a minute’s break to collect yourself for a new attack.

  Maija punched in a new number.

  Kallio.

  Hi, Maija Malmikunnas from Periodicalls here. Would you have a moment to discuss an extraordinarily attractive magazine offer?

  Go on.

  Good. Do I understand correctly that you currently have an auto-renewal subscription to Hearth and Home?

  Yes, we do.

  Excellent. Now you have the opportunity to try out another charming family publication, Anna, at a significant discount. Are you familiar with this publication?

  Somewhat. It has those celebrity interviews.

  Lovely. We are now offering faithful Hearth and Home subscribers the next four issues of Anna for eight euros, and, in addition …

  It has all those celebrity interviews. I’m not really interested in that.

  Of course not. I was guessing that might be the case. As a matter of fact, we have another publication that might interest you on an entirely different level, Home Physician.

  We don’t really get sick.

  Of course not. People nowadays don’t have time for things like that. An active, healthy person has so many other concerns. Nowadays many people consider their home decor to be a sort of safe haven. Are you familiar with the design magazine Deko?

  It looks like my brood is about to get home from school. I should start getting food ready now.

  Food, of course, but after that basic necessity comes your home, yourself, your environment. If you try out the design magazine Deko for six months, you will have the opportunity to participate in a draw for the grand prize of an Alvar Aalto stool.

  No one can sit on those.

  A matter of taste, indeed, which I would have responded to in exactly the same way myself. In addition to the grand prize, we will be raffling off an espresso maker worth one hundred euros.

  I don’t drink that tar coffee.

  Yes. I prefer a good old Finnish Mocha Gold myself. Which reminds me that it’s best to stick to the old favorites. For a faithful, long-term subscriber like yourself, we have a special bonus offer on an old, safe favorite, Good Company.

  It had Lauri Tähkä on the cover once.

  Indeed. It may have.

  It did. I can’t stand his voice and all that prancing around.

  Exactly, but he was just on the cover of that one issue.

  That was enough. It shows what the magazine is about. It sounds like the kids are coming in from school now, so I’ll have to hang up.

  I could call back at a better ti …

  A beep, beep, beep, beep came from the headphones.

  You never got used to hang-ups. There was something violent and personal about them, even though she knew that the customers weren’t thinking about her as they slammed the receiver in her ear. Or they were, but not by name.

  Maija sighed, and, just before sinking into self-pity, remembered her previous job at the customer-service counter in a big chain department store where people came to return defective products and vent their displeasure at this one petite woman. In that job Maija was forced to confront people’s disappointments and anger face to face, without the distance afforded by the telephone. As if the broken bread machines, the leaky Thermoses and the hairdryers that were making weird noises had crystallized a whole life’s worth of disappointment and despair, and as if it were all Maija’s fault, as if she were responsible for the hot water kettle bought on clearance that sprayed water on your legs and isn’t eligible for a full-price refund, but for which our department store can offer you a twenty-euro gift card in compensation.

  Maija remembered the end of that job all too well. A certain female customer had returned a vibrating device meant to firm up the midsection, claiming it was worthless. According to the woman, the device had not removed the fat stuck to her midsection at all, that it had just created false hope and consumed a ridiculous amount of electricity.

  Maija had taken out the operating instructions. It promised that the device would support the owner’s resolve, but that losing weight was primarily a matter of changes in diet and lifestyle. The device would speed up the process that the customer started herself in other ways.

  The woman claimed that at the time of sale, she had been specifically promised that after two months of jiggling, the fat would have almost disappeared, and that the salesperson hadn’t said a single word about diet or lifestyle,
which for her part the woman saw no need to change. Maija repeated again what it said in the instructions.

  The woman moved in closer to Maija and said, “Do you know what kin’ of life I’ve lived, girl? There ain’t been time to count no calories lookin’ after four brats to make sure they survive this world, where apparently people ain’t just pissin’ in our eyes but also on our bellies. I ain’t goin’ nowhere nohow until that money is here in front of me. Don’ you go preachin’ to me here in front of people about lifestyles, girl. You ain’t seen nothin’ but teenybopper posters on your wall. Don’ you go talkin’ to a grown woman. You just start pushing buttons on that machine and give me my money back for this piece of junk.”

  Maija, who thought she was a bright, customer-oriented person, couldn’t handle the situation. Tears welled up in her eyes. The pressure brought words to her mouth. The irate, sweating woman stood panting before her. Other customers peeked nervously from behind the woman. Time stopped.

  Maija heard herself say, “You listen here, you cow. The best way to get rid of those rolls of blubber is to go out walking and give up chocolate. This contraption is bogus, but it isn’t broken. You’re broken, just like me.”

  After saying this, Maija left the counter, went into the manager’s office and said, “Some lardass is about to come in here and badmouth me. She’s telling the truth. Here’s my keycard.”

  Maija remembered how she had walked out of the department store. The sun had cast strips of light on the walls of the buildings, and her incipient unemployment had felt like freedom. The memories of broken appliances and useless gadgets had crunched to bits in the frozen snow, and everything had been clear and beautiful for a moment.

  Maija punched in a new number.

  Hello. Sisko Marjamaa speaking.

  Maija Malmikunnas from Periodicalls here. Hello. Am I calling at a bad time?

  Not really. I was just burying the cat.

  Oh, how sad.

  It isn’t sad at all. Shitty kitty. It ate the baby’s food.

  I’m sorry to hear that.

  Oh, I don’t know. It was begging for it.

  The baby food?

  No, to be killed. I hit it with a hammer.

  How about I call another time …

  Just state your business. There might not be another time. That’s just what life is like. And the first time is always the best time.

  Yes. I have a special magazine offer for you …

  What’s the bonus? What do I get if I order?

  Actually at the moment we have a very sort of down-to-earth campaign going on. I won’t offer you Pets right now for obvious reasons, but what do you think? Are you familiar with Wild Colt?

  Does it come with tips?

  Excuse me?

  Trotting tips.

  No. As I understand it, this magazine approaches horses, ponies and colts from a noncompetitive perspective.

  The magazine can take any approach it wants, but you can be sure those critters are going to make it a competition. Speed is built into them. Just put your hand on the side of a horse sometime. You can feel it in there, throbbing, trying to get out. The speed that is.

  Yes. Wild Colt is actually more of a little girls’ thing anyway. But we are also having a special on Hunting and Fishing.

  We already got that once. It had good stories in it. Except the ones about the old guys who let the fish go again. There isn’t any sense in that. You catch it, you fry it. Does it still have stories like that?

  I haven’t thumbed through it all that recently, but I believe it focuses on the killing and exploitation of quarry.

  What’s the bonus?

  At the moment, you receive a leather wallet and a map of Finland in conjunction with a six-month subscription.

  How many pockets does the wallet have, and can you see Valkeajärvi on the map?

  Huh. I haven’t seen the wallet in question, but it is high quality, and I supposed that its value is about …

  Can you see Valkeajärvi on the map?

  Yes, I suppose so.

  You suppose so? It has to be there. Will you give me your word that it has Valkeajärvi on it? My husband drowned in that lake. It has to be on the map. Will you give me your first name?

  Yes, I …

  Your whole name. I’ll write it down. Oh, I left the pen in the house. That was the cat’s fault too. Well, tell me your name, and I’ll remember it.

  Maija Malmikunnas. From Periodicalls. The number should be recorded on your caller I.D. and you can …

  Everything gets recorded somewhere. But this is simple enough. So, this is Sisko Marjamaa here on the other end. Six months of Hunting and Fishing. Wallet and map thrown in. If the lake Eino drowned in is on it, all is well. Send the bill and the bonus gifts. The address is … do you have a pen?

  Yes.

  The address is Korennontie one ninety-five. Seven-o-two-o-o, Korento. Do you know what?

  What?

  The uglier the place, the prettier the name. What is it with that? This place ain’t never seen no dragonflies. Goodbye.

  Goodbye.

  It was 2:45 p.m.

  Maija took the microphone contraption off her head and checked her tally so far. She had sold ten magazine subscriptions. She had had the phone slammed in her ear seventeen times—eight times a customer had used foul language and one had used polite language. A normal day in a unique life. Why not a unique day in a normal life? Once polite, eight times foul. Why not eight times polite and once foul? Why not the other way around sometimes?

  Maija went over to the coffee machine and picked up the new package of coffee sitting next to it. Maija scraped at the tape with a fingernail, but it didn’t want to come off. Finally she caught the tape and pulled. The package slipped from her hand onto the floor, spilling the dark brown grounds all over the place. “Your daily bread will be crumbs, girl,” Her father had always used to say. Maija tried to shift the pile onto a piece of paper, but was too greedy. She took too much and the paper gave way, spilling the coffee back onto the floor. Her mother always said, “We’re all in God’s palm here.” It was starting to look like that wasn’t quite true, Maija thought. We were probably on his knee once, but as he bounced us in the air we fell off, slipping between the thick floorboards and through the subfloor down to the earth. And here we are, surrounded by coffee grounds and all the other rubbish, and this is probably also where the breadcrumbs are that Dad was talking about. We just have to maintain a calm, optimistic attitude to stick it out long enough to haul ourselves back up to the floor.

  The coffee percolated in the machine. Maija poured a cup and looked at the clock. She still had to stick it out for another hour and a half. She noticed four packages of coffee on the shelf. She took one of them and shoved it in her bag. Stealing gave her a strange energy. Maija had discovered this for the first time at the hair salon when she pinched a bottle of expensive shampoo from the rack. Theft is a balancing of accounts. If a hair salon grossly overcharges, then you have to take something without paying. Maija thought the same thing applied to the Periodicalls Corporation. If the commission they pay for a subscription doesn’t correspond to the emotional bruises received in working with the customers, then the employee has to balance the accounts.

  At first, stealing had been attended by certain moral problems, but those had been solved by a television program. The program had told about the compensation system for high-powered corporate executives. Their pay was tied to the profits of the company by a simple calculation. If the company made this and this much profit, the executive got this and this much bonus pay. Maija paid particular attention when one executive emphasized that through this incentive system, the executive bound himself to the company. The executive in question led a firm that had succeeded in turning record profits by reducing staff, and one and a half million euros of this profit had been lopped off for the executive. Maija drew her own conclusions from this and now considered her pilfering more of an exciting hobby than anything e
lse. Especially when the biggest stock options were paid to the leaders of state-owned companies, i.e. in a roundabout way from the common purse. Maija remembered saying to her husband Biko that she had never been given such clear direction from any documentary.

  THE HELPER

  Isto Ruusutie sat across from Helena Malmikunnas and rustled his papers. Ruusutie had laid the groundwork for their session as well as possible the week before, but he felt that Malmikunnas was still reserved. It showed in her body language. She sat with her upper body bent backward, the back of her head solidly against the wall. She had set her hands in her lap mechanically, not naturally, not relaxed. Her eyes looked toward him, but at the same time past him. Ruusutie knew the type: dutiful. He recorded it in his report: dtfl.

  Ruusutie said that his professional title was “consultant,” but asked Helena to forget everything connected to that word. He hoped that Helena would approach him more as a helper, a fellow traveler and a listening ear.

  Helena looked at Ruusutie and the wallpaper. Ruusutie had justified the choice of wallpaper by appealing to how cut off we are from nature. Having free, lush nature on the wall of the meeting room reminds us in a charming way of our roots and our desire to return to them in due course. The wallpaper depicted marsh, anthills and quagmire. Helena didn’t like the wallpaper, but found a dead standing pine on it from behind which a vernal sun glimmered. She focused her gaze on the pine tree, next to which stood Ruusutie’s blond, short-cropped hair, reflecting the ambient light.

  Ruusutie emphasized in particular that Helena should answer his questions as openly as possible. Openness is one of our most important tools, a little like the hoe in bygone days. Only an open mind can get us down really deep, where the human eye can’t quite reach. The purpose of this session was to map out the heart of the problem, to flush it out of hiding and tame it in the service of the whole.