Sams

"You were in that call a while. Must have been what, two hours?"

"Tell me about it. I need the loo like you wouldn't believe; put the kettle on, there's a love."

"That's a little more detail than I needed, but you've got it. You're a black coffee with two sugars this time of night, right?"

"Spot on."

...

"Oh, that's better. Thanks a million."

"You look like you needed it. Or something stronger -- what do you reckon are the chances of getting a drinks cabinet?"

"Interesting idea. I've had one or two calls where being I over the VIII might have helped me. Not terribly sure how the media would take to it if they ever found out, though."

"Fair point. One or two headlines spring irresistably to mind. Anyway, how was the call? Anyone I might know?"

"Don't think so. She said it was the first time she had called. Very hesitant at first, but we got more comfortable as time went on. Very nice lady."

"It never fails to surprise me how many of them there are."

"Callers?"

"Well, yes, but nice callers to be specific. Their lives are, on average, completely fucked up. They phone us, and God knows they have any number of excuses to rant and rave. But they don't."

"Hmm. You've a point there. Of course, there is the occasional stroppy git --"

"Peter, off the top of my head."

"-- Peter, as you say. But over the years I've spoken to any number of terribly nice, kind and gentle souls. It renews my hope in the human race."

"How do you reckon we come across?"

"Heavens, I really don't know. You should call me anonymously when I'm on shift and tell me what I'm like. An interfering old bossyboots, I'll bet."

"Rubbish. And better that than a smartarse upstart youngster like me."

"Hah!"

"How was your lady, anyhow?"

"Up and down. She was trying to find things to live for, but we couldn't find much that really lit her fire. And, let's face it, what do people live for?"

"Finishing work early this Friday, getting down to Dorset to see Susie, and watching the double episode of 'Sex and the City' that she's videoed."

"You! Seriously, what keeps people going from day to day?"

"Probably, not thinking about anything in any great depth."

"You are such a cynic for someone on the sunny side of thirty."

"Probably a side effect of working here and hanging with veterans like you -- ouch! Are those steel toe-caps?"

"You deserved that."

"OK, but seriously, I reckon that the only time I hear people really thinking is when they're on the other end of that phone line."

"I thought you were a professional engineer. Aren't your colleagues thinking hard all the time?"

"God, no. Far as I can tell, the deepest thinking my guys do all day is working out how to chat me up. Which they are amazingly bad at, incidentally. I've known pot plants with better conversational skills."

"You're worrying me. I fly in planes whose engines are designed and built by these people?"

"Yeah. Why do you think I hate flying? People with an irrational fear of flight really bug me; I have a well-reasoned and iron-clad rational fear. My guys couldn't design a reliable tin can opener."

"And here's me off on holiday with Donald to Cyprus next week."

"Oh well, never mind; you might ditch in the Med, and at least it's warm -- bugger, it's my turn to pick up the phone isn't it?"

"Enjoy."

...

"You know, sometimes I really, really hate this job."

"Did you have a wanker, dear?"

"He was so unoriginal. 'Oh, you've got a really sexy voice.' Please. I was thinking 'come on, get on with it, I've got a cup of coffee going cold.' Bloody men."

"He'll call back, you know."

"Your turn. Try to sound really old and decrepit."

"You'd be surprised, dear. Some of them think it's a turn-on. Besides, it's not just men."

"I've been doing this two years and never had a woman, it's only been men. Sad bastards."

"Oh believe me, girls can be just as bad. Ask young Michael about some of the calls he gets. You'd be amazed how brightly he can blush."

"Why do you do this? You must have been working here for eight, nine years. What keeps bringing you back? I've had some desperately shit nights, and I tell you, it's been bloody hard to come back for my next shift."

"If I had only been here a month or two then I'd agree with you. But the people here - this is a whole other life for me. I go home to Donald after a shift, and he's really nice and gives me space, and often cooks a really nice meal for me. I change from Annie into Annette, pick up my old life and think about things like my grandchildren, the W.I., tapestry and the roses. When I come on shift Annie comes out. Suddenly I'm worried about how Richard's coping after his suicidal caller last night, looking to fill that gap on the Sunday afternoon shift, trying out new lines to disappoint my Monday evening wanker, and Annette has gone completely."

"I think I understand. Sams talk about leading a double life, but it really is like that, isn't it? There's absolutely no overlap except when you're making excuses to not go to a party that overlaps a shift. So you're saying that you can come back because the crap that happens to Annie doesn't affect Annette? And I do believe that call's for you."

"Hold that thought, dear."

...

"So you get another really interesting call, and I get my wanker five times in a row? I tell you, next time I'm going to drop my voice two octaves."

"Oh, be careful dear. Kirsten tried that once, and was stuck in a two hour call with a desperately depressed gentleman having to keep pretending to be a chap."

"Poor thing. Sorry, I shouldn't laugh. Are she and Patrick an item? They seem to be doing an awful lot of shifts together, and I swear I saw them in Moles the other week."

"Well dear, people say that you're the one who knows everything that's going on."

"Really? I just get it all off Maureen. And a bit from David as well, I suppose. And Norrie, when she's in the mood to talk."

"I'll get this one."

"No, no, you've had a long time on the phone already. I'll give it a try."

...

"Well, that wasn't too bad. Nice enough chap; bit worried about how his other half was treating him."

"Oh, I'm glad it wasn't another of your fan club. It's nearly 2am, do you want to get some sleep?"

"Yeah, I'd better. I'm in work tomorrow - today, that is."

"Ouch. Hope you've nothing too vital planned."

"Only meetings. People won't notice any difference if I doze off."

"Sleep well, dear."

...

"Mmm hmm?"

"It's me. You - you awake?"

"Yes dear, come in. Are you all right?"

"Not really... is it OK if I put your phone on Line 1?"

"Of course. What happened?"

"God, that drinks cabinet would be really welcome right now. I can't stop shaking."

"Rough call?"

"Oh, I'll say. Just that bit too close to home."

"Do sit down... my goodness, you are shaking. Here, take a blanket."

"Thanks... I'm a real wimp, aren't I?"

"Rubbish. I think someone's just opened up an old wound, and by the look of you it was quite a deep one."

"Have you ever had a scare about a lump there?"

"No, I haven't; my daughter did, several years back, but they found that it was benign. That wasn't good for any of us. When did it happen to you?"

"Five, six years ago. And it wasn't benign. They took it out, reckoned they'd caught it early enough. The next six months weren't fun. Anyway, the past year I'd just begun to put it behind me."

"And then this lady called?"

"This bloke - he sounded really nice, really kind and thoughtful. His wife found a lump late last year. By the sound of it, they didn't catch it early enough. Well, she's on the way down."

"That's a rough one. How is he?"

"Poor thing, he's dying with her. He's trying to be strong for her, and doesn't have anyone to be there for him."

"Is he suicidal?"

"Not immediately, he couldn't do it while his wife is still with him, but he doesn't seem to have anything to live for once she's gone."

"How're you doing... oh, perfect timing. Hang on, I've a fair idea who this is... Hello Geoffrey, what would you like to say? Yes, well I'm afraid I can't talk to you when you're doing that... no doubt, but are you feeling suicidal? Not at all, thank you for calling... Men, heh?"

"Not all of them. I couldn't help liking this guy... shit, sorry about this."

"Here, have a hanky."

"Thanks. It's all right, life goes on. For some of us."

"Remember the dead, that's fine, but don't forget to fight like hell for those of us still living. Ah, and there goes the dawn chorus."

"Oh joy. I'm going to try to get some sleep. If the world ends, don't wake me."

"Sleep well."

...

"I feel like something's crawled into my mouth and died."

"You don't look good. Listen dear, take some advice from an old biddy. Call in sick. Heaven knows you look it."

"Can't. Stuff to do."

"It'll wait. If they can't do without you for one day then they need to depend on you less anyway. No-one's irreplaceable."

"I guess... Sod it, it's not the end of the world. I'm going home. When are Paul and Lizzie going to get here?"

"Lizzie's here already. She's sorting out the post. Let's call Sheila, then I'll wait for Paul and you can go home."

"Hi, Sheila? Yeah, how are you? ... Well, apart from the usual wankers it's been quiet. One bad call ... no, just a demon I thought I'd buried ... yeah ... yeah, I know ... getting through, you know? ... absolutely, thanks for that ... okay, here she is... All yours."

"Thanks dear. Take care."

"See you sometime, Annie."