I work in an internet call center.
One of the simplest and yet most boring jobs in the world. It’s relatively low stress, knowing the angry customer is three states away.
One night, things got a whole lot less simple and a whole lot more stressful.
We get dead air calls all the time. Phone companies are very strange. Some will be silence, fax noises, creepy elevator music, or a robot reciting bible verses. The list goes on.
But not often do we have the following experience.
I’m about 2 hours into my shift. My butt hurts, and I’m thirsty. After grabbing a Coke from the vending machine, I take my first gulp and get back to the calls. Three calls go by. One is dead air, the second is a man who tripped on a cord and yanked the ethernet jack out of his wall, and the third is a woman who thinks it’s my fault she missed her payment.
The fourth call was a . . . thing . . that sounded straight out of a Steven King film. I say thing, because this voice was neither male nor female. It wasn’t several voices like in the ghost films, but rather a singular unrecognizable voice.
It started out with a pterodactyl screeching. At first I thought it was the fax dialup sound, but just as I had my finger on the “End Call” button, the voice appeared.
“Heeeelloooooo there!” it hissed.
“Thank you for calling ******* Tech Support, my name is Noxurnal. Can I have the phone number on your account please?”
“You silly little devil you….. Didn’t they tell you drinking that stuff will kill you????” it hissed back.
It’s voice was hissy, sinister, and giggly.
“Excuse me?” I started. I honestly thought I had misheard the caller and was thrown off by the inquiry.
“That coke bottle there… Next to your keyboard? HAHAHAH!”
The call disconnected with it’s laughter.
I stood up at my cubicle and looked over to Alex, who sat in front of me. Alex was on a call, and he looked honest enough. I looked around to find everyone hard at work. I was sure someone was messing with me.
I thought back to when I was in the break room, getting a drink. Harold was in there with me, and he was creepy enough to try something like that.
I pulled up the office messenger and shot Harold a message.
Me: That was freaking hilarious. How’d you make your voice sound like that?
Harold: What?
Me: That fake phone call. Really creeped me out. You got something against Coca-Cola?
Harold: Are you high, Nox? What are you talking about.
Me: Hilarious. I’ll get you back.
Harold: Alright, creep.
I go back to work and answer a couple of calls. One lady says her dog is choking on the antenna of her router, for whom I offered advisement of an emergency vet in her area. The second call was a man who was locked out of his home. The man yelled at me because I couldn’t send a locksmith. Did I mention this was and internet call center?
The phone rings again and I answer with the same greeting as always . . .
“NOXURNAL!!!! MY good friend… I see that you’ve downed that Coke a bit more. Do you FEEEEEEL it burning your innards?!”
At this point I stand up and look in Harold’s direction. He and his friends are taking a break, conversing without their headsets.
“Who is this?” I ask.
“I’m offended! I thought we were friendsssss!?”
“How can we be friends if we have never met?”
“Ohhhhh…. we’ve met.” It said, almost condescendingly.
“Caller, are you having trouble connecting to the internet?”
With hysterical laughter, the call disconnects again.
Fast forward an hour.
**
I hadn’t had many calls that last hour. And at this point, I was bored out of my mind. I looked at the clock.
7:45. I still had an hour to go.
RING
“Thank you for calling ***** Tech Support, my name is Noxurnal. Can I have the phone number on your account please?”
“555 0123. This is Debra *****. My internet is down again.”
“Alright Debra, let’s see what we can do about that. Can you tell me what kind of router you have?”
“It’s a Belkin~” HISS HISS
The phone broke up severely at this point. I looked at the phone itself and the small display seemed to be going haywire..
Hissing turned into laughing as the familiar voice pierced my ears yet again.
“What do you want?” I asked… starting to get rather freaked out.
“I jusssst wanna give Noxxy a REEEEAL DRINK!”
“No thank you.” I said with a shaky voice.
“You wanna know what happens when you drink that stuff, Noxxy?”
“What”
“You start having dreams . . . You wanna dream with me?”
“What does that mean, you aren’t even here?”
“Oh I’m here with you now. In your earssss . . .”
“I -” I start.
“BUT I’D LIKE TO BE IN YOUR MIIIINNDD!”
This thing was screaming this horrible telephonic hiss into my eardrums. The headset speakers were ringing and piercing my very soul.
I reached up to remove the headset, but it felt like it was locked onto my skull. Disregarding the possible attention and strange looks from my peers, I jumped out of my seat and yanked the headset out of the phone, but the screaming didn’t stop.
I look around for help, eyes watering, as I felt the blood dripping from my ears . . . The room is empty.
The cubicles remain but all I saw were empty chairs. I fall to my knees and then into the fetal position, covering my ears, as the blood pools beneath my head. I scream along with the monster in my head.
A new sensation hits me… At first I think maybe the headset is melting into my ears, or perhaps my senses have been damaged to the point of physical delusion, but I swear someone was putting fingers in my ears!
Just as I come to this realization, the monster addresses me again…
“INTO YOUR MIND, I NEED INTO YOUR MIIIIIND!!!!”
I never anticipated a sound louder than before, but the monster started screaming louder and louder, as his fingers dove deeper and deeper into my ear canal.
I felt the sharp pains of my torn eardrums being crushed even further to allow for his fingers to go deeper, and at a certain point, when the noise was so loud, I was convinced I was deaf and heard nothing, I felt a sheer cold knife pierce either side of my brain.
I froze. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Blood pouring. Tears streaming. Drool falling. I couldn’t move. The pain didn’t cease, but I was unable to react. Deaf. Cold. Suffocating.
All of a sudden, it whispers in my frozen ears . . .
“Coffee cures all headaches . . . ”
Beyond all my wildest expectations, it screams louder. Just when my head is about to explode –
I’m sitting in front of my computer. I look around, and my co-workers have returned, acting as if nothing has happened.
I wish I could say that I woke up. But it was as if I’d never closed my eyes. Just frozen in a moment of time between phone calls.
The time hasn’t changed, proving my theory.
My heart is racing, but my breathing is steady. Like I was gently placed back in my seat after a street race.
Slightly panicking, but not wishing to cause my peers alarm, I reach out for my Coke. But my bottle is not there. In its place sits a warm cup. The smell tells me it is coffee. I did not have a cup of coffee.
Confused, I refreshed my memory and checked the clock again.
7:45. Not a minute had passed, and all of a sudden there is a cup of hot coffee in front of me.
For a minute, in my despair and confusion, I forget that I’m in a call center.
Just as the phone rings, I realize I have a massive headache…
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