@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; When I First Began To Work In A Call Center, Summer, 2004 [XLIX]

I watched him walk down the stairs; he wore a mesh

tee, baggy bell-bottom jeans---the cuffs of which

did not fully conceal his bare feet---toenails

enameled.  I thought, "I will like working in

"this small call center.'


Author's Notes/Comments: 

I worked in that call center from 2004-2012.  Like all call centers, the work was horrific,  the customers were nasty, and the supervisors were corporate stooges.  The experience, however, was punctuated by rare moments of a more positive nature, like this one.  I was foolish enough to think I might enjoy the work; but the eight years were put in for necessity only.  Now retired due to medical affliction, I cannot even figure how I was able to get through those eight years relatively unscathed. The memory that the poem describes was real and very pleasant, even erotic.  However, due to rapid turnover, the young man in the poem did not remain long employed in that call center.

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