Cold Caller

by Jason Starr

  “Your boat?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said in a suddenly interested, less professional tone. “Why? You sail?”

  “You can say that,” I said, intentionally modest. “I’m from Bainbridge Island, Washington. I practically grew up on a sail boat.”

  “No kidding,” he said. “What did you have? A ten, twenty-footer?”

  “Not me, my dad, God rest his soul. The last boat he had was a sixty-five-footer.”

  “Sixty-five feet!” he said. “Jesus, that’s quite a ship.”

  “It was nice,” I said modestly. “I was practically his first mate. ‘The Jib Man’ he called me. When I was a teenager I started taking it out on my own. It was great. Then in college I was in the sailing club.”

  “You competed?”

  “A couple of races here and there. It wasn’t like our yacht was going to compete for the America’s Cup or anything, but we had a lot of fun. I really miss the water and fresh air. I was thinking about joining the New York Yacht Club at some point.”

  “This is fantastic,” he said. “There’s finally somebody in the office who knows something about sailing.”

  I’d definitely struck the right chord in him. He started going on and on about the different boats he’d owned over the years and the trips he’d taken to the Caribbean and Central America. From his desk drawer, he took out a stack of pictures showing him and his wife on the deck of a boat. In all the pictures he was bare-chested, wearing dark sunglasses, and the wind was rustling his thin hair. I listened closely, adding an anecdote whenever I thought it was necessary, but the truth was I knew very little about sailing. Yes, my father had owned a sailboat when I was growing up, but it was a fifteen-footer and I don’t think I went on it more than one or two times. And I was never in a sailing club in college, nor did I know whether such a sailing club existed at the University of Washington. In actuality, I was afraid of water and I never even went swimming at the beach. But a roommate of mine in college had been into sailing and I’d picked up a lot of the lingo from him. I told Mr. Simmons specifics about the different sail boats my father had owned and details about month long trips I used to take with him during summers. I’d recently read one of Julie’s National Geographics in the bathroom, so I gave details about trips we took along the coast of Alaska and Canada, dropping the names of specific ports we’d visited. I could tell that Mr. Simmons was hanging on every word I said and that, unlike my experience with computers, my experiences on the high seas of the Pacific were impressing him greatly.

  “I can’t believe we’ve had this big secret at the company for two years and we never took advantage of it,” Mr. Simmons said. “Imagine, a sailor who knows databases. This really is a lucky break for us. Why didn’t you ever put in a request for a promotion sooner?”

  “Actually, I did but –”

  “That’s not important now. What’s important is we’ve discovered you now and we can’t let you go. Let me let you in on a little secret,” he said whispering, as if we were suddenly members of the same old boys’ club. “Ed may be a nice guy, but he’s not the brightest guy in the world. We need somebody like you in the department, somebody young, somebody with a vision. There’s going to be a lot of rough water ahead in this business, and I’m not convinced that Ed can handle it – not alone anyway. And now that I’m starting to know you a little better, I think you’re going to be the perfect man for the job. Welcome aboard, Bill.”

  “Thank you, captain,” I said.

  Mr. Simmons laughed, harder than would be expected for such a silly joke.

  “You don’t have to call me captain,” he said. “Nelson is fine.”

  “I won’t let you down,” I said.

  “I’m sure you won’t. And you’ll have to come out to Sag Harbor some time and see my yacht. Maybe we can go for a little spin together.”

  “I’d enjoy that a great deal,” I said. “I haven’t done any sailing all summer. I’m itching to get back on the water again.”

  Nelson patted me on the back and walked me back to Ed’s office. The morning telemarketers had begun their shift, and I noticed people eyeing me strangely as Nelson and I walked across the telemarketing floor. I realized that they must not have known about my possible promotion and that they must have found it strange to see me in a business suit, side-by-side with the President of the company.

  “We can stop our search,” Nelson said to Ed. “I think Bill here is going to be perfect for the job.”

  For a moment Ed appeared surprised, perhaps that I had become so chummy with Nelson so quickly, but he erased the expression from his face quickly.

  “That’s great news, great news,” Ed said. “I had a feeling you’d be impressed with him.”

  “I just wonder why you didn’t bring Bill to my attention sooner. We had this budding talent here and we were wasting it on the telemarketing floor.”

  Ed seemed to be trying to think of a response, when Nelson said:

  “Just make sure you get all of Bill’s paperwork in order today so we can get him set up as soon as possible.” Then he turned to me. “If you have any questions or problems I have a light schedule today, so just come by my office any time and I’d be happy to talk. I’m sure we’ll be talking to each other again soon.”

  Nelson shook my hand firmly. I smiled, realizing that there was suddenly no talk of Nelson having to attend an urgent meeting.

  “Is something funny?” Ed asked.

  “No,” I said.

  I knew Ed must have resented the apparent special treatment I was getting from Nelson and that he might have thought I’d been laughing at some inside joke Nelson had made against him.

  “Come on,” Ed said unamused. “Let’s get you set up.”

  We went to the vacant office next to Mike’s office. Like Mike’s office, this office had glass windows facing the telemarketing floor, but – I was happy to notice – it was larger than Mike’s office and it had a bigger desk and more filing cabinets. Ed explained that my formal training was going to begin tomorrow. In the meantime, he was going to bring me some material to read about the company and the telecommunications industry.

  “I’ll formally announce your promotion at a meeting this afternoon,” he said. “I’ll also bring you the appropriate paperwork to sign. Oh, and I just want to remind you that we take our chain of command very seriously at A.C.A. Mike, as Floor Manager, will bring all his grievances to you. You bring your grievances to me, and I bring my grievances to Nelson. Under no circumstances should you approach Nelson directly about anything.”

  “But Nelson told me before that I should come to him if I have any questions.”

  Ed inhaled and then exhaled a long stream of air.

  “Today only. After today, you come to me. Understood?”

  I nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  Ed left me in the office alone. I sat at my new desk and adjusted my swivel chair to an appropriate height. The office was stuffy and I wished there was a window facing outside. The drab pale-green paint on the walls gave the office a stale, bureaucratic feel, but I knew after I added a personal touch – put up a few paintings, maybe a small rug for the floor – the place would begin to liven up. The important thing was that the office was my own. Whenever I wanted to, I could close the door and be by myself. I could stay there until ten o’clock at night if I wanted to, catching up on work or just relaxing. It might not sound like such a big deal, but having my own office was very important to me. It made me feel powerful. I was no longer a “telemarketer”, a faceless employee sitting in a cubicle, like an anonymous egg in a carton of eggs. Suddenly, I was alive again. This is what had been missing from my life for the past two years, I realized. I used to be a workaholic, working twelve-hour days sometimes. I was the type of guy who brought his work home with him, who couldn’t have a conversation if it didn’t in some way relate to work. It didn’t make me the most interesting guy in the world, but it made me feel comfortable. Without a job I ha
d nothing to do with my life, and too much idle time is dangerous for a man.

  Someone knocked on the door. Come in, I said, and Mike entered the office. He was smiling cautiously, almost embarrassed to be intruding. He looked nothing like the stoic man who had sent me home from work four days ago. I realized that Ed must have told him that I’d been promoted. He must have also learned that I was now his supervisor.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Mike said.

  “Of course not,” I said in an overly pleasant tone that must have been unsettling to him. “Come in, come in.”

  Mike closed the door, but remained in the same place, nervously fiddling with change or keys in his pockets.

  “Just wanted to congratulate you,” he said. “Ed told me the good news.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “You must’ve been surprised, huh?”

  “It’s true,” I said, “four days ago I didn’t think I’d still be at the company, no less be promoted. But I guess the world works in mysterious ways.”

  “Yeah, mysterious ways,” he said, obviously out of things to say. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you later.”

  “Oh, Mike,” I said, “can you do me a little favor?”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Can you run down to the deli and get me a cup of coffee?”

  He paused, waiting to see if I was serious.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, with one milk and two sugars. Actually, better make that skim milk and Sweet’N Low. Two Sweet’N Lows, unless they have Equal. Then make it Equal. But just one Equal.”

  I saw his teeth grinding together.

  “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

  “Let me give you some money,” I said. “Here’s five bucks. Also, get me a muffin. Chocolate chip if they look fresh. Otherwise banana walnut or blueberry, you decide which.”

  He took the money and started out of the office.

  “One more thing, Mike.” He stopped. I heard him breathe heavily. “I want to schedule a meeting with you, let’s say three o’clock this afternoon, if that’s all right with you of course?”

  “What are we going to meet about?”

  “It’s just going to be a bit of an orientation. I’m going to tell you what I expect from you, what your new responsibilities will be, that sort of thing. I’d advise you to bring a pen.”

  Although his face remained expressionless, Mike’s eyes looked like spears that were about to fly out of their sockets and stab me.

  “Three o’clock,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  I was looking forward to it too. This job was going to be a lot of fun.

  8

  I became absorbed in my work. Most nights I didn’t go home until eight o’clock, and sometimes I stayed as late as nine or ten. Mornings, I was in my office by eight, eight-fifteen the latest. Although I didn’t have to work these long hours, I enjoyed it, and I would have felt that I was cheating myself if I worked any less hard.

  In addition to learning everything there was to learn about the telephone industry, I was also working on updating the company’s database program, trying to work out every possible kink. Every day it seemed I had meetings or phone conversations with technical support people and computer programmers. I knew that the first job a new employee does is usually the one he is most remembered for, and I wanted to make the best first impression possible.

  During this period, Julie was very understanding. She knew how much working at a full-time job meant to me and she never complained about my long hours. I think she actu­ally preferred that I was working more. When I’d had afternoons off I was often tense and irritable when Julie came home from work, and this always led to arguments between us. But now that I was expending so much energy at work, when I came home I was much more relaxed and easy to get along with, and our relationship benefited from this.

  On most days, I walked home from work, taking new routes each time. Sometimes I walked straight up Broadway to Eighty-sixth Street, then crossed through Central Park. Other times I’d weave through the midtown side streets until I reached Second Avenue and then I walked straight home. But my favorite walk was along the perimeter of Central Park. I’d either take Broadway and cut over on a street in the Fifties, or go straight up Eighth Avenue to Columbus Circle. I found it very relaxing to be in midtown in the early evening. It was after rush hour so the streets were quieter and the sidewalks were emptier and there was still a simmering energy in the city, a pulse that reminded me I was alive. It was especially pleasant to be near the park. The joggers and dog walkers and roller bladers and bicyclists gave the city a festive, invigorating atmosphere. I’d walk alongside Central Park until I reached Fifth Avenue and then I’d head north with the park still on my left. The walk always seemed shorter when I was next to the park. I’d be watching the designs of orange and yellow light in the trees that the setting sun made and before I knew it I’d be crossing Seventy-ninth Street. When I got to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I always felt that I was home, even though I still had almost a mile left to walk.

  Later, I’d feel energized from my walks, never fatigued. I’d talk to Julie for a while, ask her about her day, then – if I hadn’t picked up something on the way home – I’d fix myself something to eat. If Julie wasn’t watching t.v., I’d watch the last couple of innings of the Yankee games, or if the Yankees weren’t playing I’d watch the Mets. Then, at about eleven o’clock I’d join Julie in bed. Usually, she’d already be sleeping. I’d read some work I’d brought home with me, then I’d fall asleep. In the morning, I was usually gone before Julie woke up.

  At work, the telemarketers treated me differently than before my promotion. Now that I was technically their boss, some people resented me and rarely said hello to me or spoke to me about the latest office gossip. But others – a few of whom had never spoken to me before – tried to become very friendly with me. They started conversations with me all the time, offered to work extra hours. One woman – an N.Y.U. creative writing student named Mary Weiss – even bought me a present, a book of poetry by Galway Kinnell. I thanked her graciously for the book and I acted pleasantly toward all the people who were trying to be friendly with me, but I secretly resented all of them. I’d always hated people who kissed their teachers’ and bosses’ asses, and I’m proud to say that I’ve never reduced myself to that level. Even if it meant that I got a lower grade or that I was passed over for a promotion; if I wasn’t being rewarded for the work I’d done, the reward meant nothing to me. I also hated the people who were brooding over my promotion, because these people were obviously selfish and there is no place for selfishness in the business world. The only people I had respect for were the few people whose opinions of me hadn’t changed at all. These people either continued to ignore me or to be halfway friendly toward me as if nothing had changed and I was still a telemarketer. I mentioned these people to Ed and I made sure they received their commissions faster than other people, and I made sure their phones and computers worked better. I also mentioned the names of the people who were trying to kiss up to me and the people who were angry at me, telling Ed that I questioned “their attitudes.” Ed appreciated the information and he subsequently fired two people, including Mary who had bought me the book of poems.

  For the first few days, I continued to take revenge on Mike. I made him do mundane errands, reprimanded him in front of the telemarketers, and was overall rude and condescending toward him. Then I decided enough was enough. I’d never liked Mike and I didn’t start to like him any better, but I also realized that there was nothing really bad about him. I was still angry that he had sent me home early that day without pay, but now that I was a member of management I realized the bind he’d been in. If he didn’t send me home that day and Ed found out that I had been late three times in July, Ed may have fired him for not doing his job properly. Of course the odds of Ed figuring that out were almost nil, but nevertheless
I understood Mike’s position. As the Floor Supervisor, he had the toughest job at the company. He had to enforce all of Ed’s policies and then Ed could sit in the background like Mr. Nice Guy while Mike took all the abuse. I really felt sorry for Mike.

  Ed and I got along well. At least that’s how it must have seemed. I was always with him and I never disagreed with anything he said, unless I felt very strongly about something, and then I always tempered my comments and was sure never to raise my voice or to be at all disrespectful. Sometimes it was hard to stay calm, especially when he made his daily snide racist remarks about blacks. I would nod in agreement, as if what he was saying was very enlightening, and I doubt he ever had any idea how much I hated him. As far as he was concerned I was just another white guy who was sick and tired of hearing black people complaining that they couldn’t get a fair shake in America. Ed was so obsessed with hating black people that I sometimes wondered if something had happened to him as a child. Had a black bully beaten him up in junior high school? Did a black person rob or hurt someone in his family? He would get so angry during his tirades that his face would turn red and perspiration stains would appear on his shirts.