Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,2

you had to think and act quickly. How did you handle the situation and what was the outcome?”

What the HELL? What happened to strengths and weaknesses?

I blink. Several times.

My whole body reverberates in shock as I try to maintain eye contact, but fail miserably.

A long uncomfortable silence ensues.

{{{{{{{{Crickets Chirping}}}}}}}}}

I draw a blank, barely able to form a coherent thought. Feeling numb, disconnected, and at a complete loss, I find myself on the verge of hyperventilating.

Just keep breathing, Maddy, I coach myself. In. Out. In. Out. Come on Maddy, think. Think.

After racking my brain, I say, “There was this one time—”

Victor nods and gives me a tentative smile.

Encouraged, I continue, “Well, I was babysitting my grandma’s poodle, Fifi, when all of a sudden Fifi went into a violent seizure. She was frothing at the mouth and thrashing wildly all over the place.” After a brief pause, I add, “It was really traumatizing.”

Victor’s expression is unreadable and he’s madly scribbling away in his binder.

I venture, “Immediately, I dialed 911 and when the operator explained, in no uncertain terms, that they don’t respond to animal emergencies, I did not panic. I remained calm and asked if she could kindly give me the phone number to the nearest EV.”

Victor looks up from his binder and stares at me blankly.

“Um, that’s short for Emergency Vet...err, just in case you were wondering.”

He motions for me to continue.

“And so I called the clinic, got directions, threw Fifi into my car and drove like a mad woman to the EV,” I gab, hearing the hysteria in my own voice.

Catching myself, I quickly backpedal. “But, I should point out that I did drive responsibly. Yesireee I did. No reckless driving or speeding on my part. When I said I drove like a mad woman, it was merely a figure of speech.” I let out a shrill laugh.

In reality, it was pedal to the metal. I floored the gas all the way to the EV while Fifi lay comatose in the back seat.

Victor doesn’t laugh. His eyes are hard as he stares at me deadpan.

The seconds tick by. Oh God! I’m completely losing it.

Taking a deep breath, I press on, “Once we arrived at the EV, Fifi was immediately whisked off and put on some anti-seizure medication.”

Victor is still mute and madly scribbling in his binder. “And what was the outcome?” he asks without looking up.

“Well, they were able to stabilize Fifi for an hour, in time for my grandma to arrive. But…but,” I break off, bite my inner lip and swallow hard.

“But what?” he asks in a cold voice.

“Fifi...um...she eventually died that same night,” I mutter softly, ridiculously close to tears.

Victor stops writing and looks up. “I’m sorry for yours and your grandmother’s loss.”

I nod meaningfully at him. Alas, he has a heart.

Alas not!

Snapping back into business mode, he attacks me with a rapid-fire barrage of outlandish questions:

“Give me an example of a time when you had to deal with a difficult co-worker or fellow student on a project. How did you handle the situation? What were the outcomes?”

“Tell me about a time when you had to persuade someone to see your point of view. What tactics did you use? What were the outcomes? What did you learn?”

“Describe a time when you were assigned a task but were provided little direction on how to complete the task. What steps did you take to complete the task? What was the outcome?”

My brain is aching.

No, scratch that. My brain is hemorrhaging as I try to come up with answers that make sense. But Victor doesn’t stop and the questions keep whizzing at me like poisoned arrows.

Feeling woozy, I place a clammy hand to my forehead to quell the throbbing ache.

I struggle and fumble through it all while Victor just keeps on writing everything down in his stupid binder.

My scrambled brain is screaming, “Enough!”

One hour later—though it feels more like eons later to me—the appalling interrogation is finally over.

Phew. I sag with relief.

“We’ll call you in about a week after your background check goes through,” he informs me in a brisk voice.

I nod with my head hunched down.

Defeated, battered and bruised, I wobble out of the war zone, my jelloid legs barely holding me up.

Kars is in my face all at once. “How’d it go?”

Frazzled to bits and a complete basket case at this point, I say dazedly, “I think I bombed it.”

“Gak!” she blurts in a panic. “I think I’m next.”

That very second, the door creeks open and General Petraeus’ square