Read The Countdown to Thirty Online
Authors: Nefertiti Faraj
The Countdown to Thirty
The
Countdown
to Thirty
By Nefertiti Faraj
Copyright © Nefertiti Faraj, 2015
All rights reserved
Without limiting the rights under
copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
Please purchase only authorized editions,
and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted
materials. Your support of the publisher’s rights is appreciated.
To my fellow readers,
When I began writing this novel
originally it was intended to be a short story or a novella. But as a two month
deadline turned into a time span of several months I found that I couldn’t stop
writing until the story was complete, until I got everything out that I wanted
to say.
So much of this story is me from
the personalities of the main characters to some of the crazy situations
they’ve gotten themselves into. Many of the plots were developed from my
imagination but several came into existence either consciously or
subconsciously through experiences in my own life which I chose to spice up or
tone down for the sake of the story.
It was important for me in this
first of many novels to come to create a descriptive contemporary setting that
my readers could relate to or at least easily adapt to. I was also compelled to
create women who were both amiable and authentic. Real characters in real
situations with real personalities experiencing the challenging day-to-day life
activities that many of us twenty, thirty or even forty somethings go through
was necessary in order for me to carry the story from the beginning to end. I
love superwomen but I didn’t need my characters to have an artificial sense of
the word in order to achieve my point. I just wanted them to be normal everyday
women like you and me.
When you read The Countdown to
Thirty I hope that you find it funny, relatable and inspiring. If not, at the
least I hope you find it entertaining.
Happy reading,
Nefertiti Faraj
For
updates on more of my upcoming work or to get to know the author better please
visit:
www.goodreads.com/NefertitiFaraj
https://www.facebook.com/NefertitiFaraj
Or email
Feedback is very valuable to me as well as your reviews
and hearing about any personal connections you may have had with the
characters. Please don’t be shy! You’re encouragement motivates me to produce
quality and entertaining material that I pray captures your mind and sweeps it
away to another place allowing for that peaceful moment of escape.
More exciting titles
coming this year!
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Dedicated to my mother
who early on instilled the values of reading and writing in our home and who
provided me with my much adored collection of Babysitter’s Club books of which
I still have today.
And to my Niya bear for
being my biggest fan and most influential supporter from day one. Not only are
you cute but you’re also one sharp eight year old.
I love you girl.
Sonya
Whoever coined the term
“stay in school and get your
degree or you’ll be flipping burgers at McDonald’s”
knew exactly what they
were talking about. No I’m not technically flipping burgers but my job is damn
near the equivalent of that.
For what feels like the seventh time in the last half hour I
glanced at the time on my computer and was relieved to find I only had an hour
left of my shift to go. My head aches, my back is stiff and I have a serious
case of cotton mouth from taking back-to-back calls all day long. Like I said
I’m not flipping burgers but you get the gist, I hate my job.
The misery of answering over a hundred phone calls most days
from angry and clueless customers and to “do it with a smile” then be grateful
for the anorexic check I collect every other week is indescribable. My official
job title of CSR Training Administrator meant nothing since I was forced to hit
the phones after a four month hiring freeze. Unfortunately, this job trumps
over all of my natural born intellect and fabulousness and the day I quit will
be a blessing.
“Is there anything else I can help you with Mrs. McCoy?” I
asked as I spoke into my headpiece.
The irritating old woman on the other end of the line had me
cornered for the last fifteen minutes. She forced me into explaining the
features and benefits of each of our credit cards then going through it again a
second time with her hearing impaired husband. Judging by the weariness in his
voice I imagined he found her irritating as well.
I was so tempted to disconnect the call without warning but
what good would that do? I’d only get another one immediately after and have to
start the “customer first” act all over again from scratch.
“Well yes there is one more thing”, the old woman answered,
“Can you tell me why you people charge such high fees? I mean is it necessary
to charge an old woman on a fixed income thirty-nine dollars for going over the
credit limit a time or two? I mean don’t you feel bad about it? I told you what
my income was when I applied for your card and you have the audacity to
overcharge me!” She screamed after realizing our conversation was coming to an
end and that a simple thank you would be too pleasant.
“Mrs. McCoy, I do apologize for your inconvenience but these
are the fees you agreed to when you accepted our Diamond card. Is there
anything else I can help you with?”
“Well, no!”
“Please take care and thank you for calling Alliance
America, where we value and treat every customer as an individual.” I replied
as sweetly as possible to mask my own irritation.
God I hated that punch line they force us to add at the end
of every call.
‘Where we value and treat every customer as an individual’
…complete
bull. But not doing so results in an automatic call fail if you’re screened. I
should know; I was the one who use to administer the training.
“Have a good day my foot! Bob! You’ll never believe how
nasty these credit card people are—” I heard her say just before she rudely
hung up in my face.
Excuse me, but I’d just given her a five star stellar
performance of customer service at its best and she calls me nasty? Lord, get
me off these phones!
I was so tired of working for a company that had millions if
not billions of dollars but couldn’t show me enough respect to do the job they
hired me for. On top of that they were liars, manipulators and cheap.
When their hiring freeze began they enlisted me to take
escalated customer calls for about half my shift, then balance call monitoring
and employee coaching the rest of the time. I sucked it up, no problem. Then
about a month later they cut out all training which forced me to be on the
phone eight hours plus per day and it’s been hell ever since. Customers don’t
seem to care that I’m just another hourly employee with no say over what fees
they decide to charge in the boardroom; they just want me to perform miracles.
I took two more calls before logging off and grabbing my
belongings to head to Sahara Hall (the great room
that
could comfortably sit all eleven hundred employees at one time.) When I arrived
at work this morning and checked my email I accepted an invitation for a
mandatory meeting at three p.m., just an hour short of my freedom for the
weekend, sixty minutes until peace and quiet, thirty-six hundred seconds left
until I didn’t have to see or smell this place for another forty eight hours.
Working for Alliance America for the past year has been in a
word, miserable. If it wasn’t for the lack of respect as a true professional
from management and the six hours of overtime I needed to average per week to
get a decent check it could have been bearable.
Who am I kidding, being on the phone sucks.
I stood up and ran my hands down my white long sleeved
button up blouse in an attempt to flatten out any wrinkles that were created
from my last two hours of sitting. After splashing my neck moist with a floral
scented body spray I touched up my shapely lips with my plum colored lipstick
that had begun to wear after lunch. While walking down my row I passed by
several depressing gray cubicles. They were filled with customer service reps
chatting away on their headsets while typing faster than the speed of light in
order to keep their call time low to avoid a potential call fail. Most cubicles
were decorated with pictures of families, cute kids minus the occasional funny
looking ones, knickknacks and printouts of positive quotes that were supposed
to help get you through the day. All the family photos and positivity in the
world couldn’t fool me; here we were all just another number. I imagined in
upper management’s eyes we were simply considered dispensable idiots.
As I exited the main call center door I was forced to wonder
how I came to work at such a place. I guess being voted “Most Likely to
Succeed” in high school didn’t mean shit. I mean I did go to college and even
though I didn’t go further than my Associates degrees I knew I was smarter than
this. An AA in Business Admin and an AA in Accounting had to stand for
something.
A few minutes later I stock piled into Sahara Hall with
about three hundred other people from various departments ranging from
collections to sales and smiled when I saw Josephine, a cute Filipino girl my
age who wore black framed designer glasses that gave her a look of
sophistication. Josephine Lozares - or Jo as we called her - was another fellow
trainer but from the sales department. She to had fallen from grace and been
reduced to a phone girl.
She bounced her five foot nothing adorably round frame over
to me while her long black ponytail swayed back and forth.
“Hey Sonya, you’re here to huh? How are things going in
customer service?” She asked.
“Well the customers are still cranky, moody and expect the
world, but I made it through another day!” I said sarcastically as she nodded
her head in agreement.
We sat in the second row towards the back of the hall to
avoid a stampede once the meeting was over. While people continued to pile in
and find their seats she vented about the ridiculous demands coming from the
sales department and how she’d been looking for a new job. Then we switched the
subject to skin care and make-up when she complimented me on my smooth
chocolate brown complexion.
“Black don’t crack!” She said laughing.
God if only I had a dime every time I heard that overused
phrase that always seemed to come out of the mouth of someone who wasn’t Black.
I wasn’t the least bit annoyed though; Jo could be a real comic sometimes. On
most days her IM conversations were the only thing stopping me from walking out
never to return again.
“Oh yea,” I said reaching into my purse to retrieve a small
plastic bag, “I have your earrings.”
Jo was one of the many people who admired not only my makeup
application techniques but also the handmade jewelry I create in my spare time,
mostly when I’m bored or have an idea for something and can’t find in stores. I
handed her over the shiny black diamond shaped earrings that we trimmed in gold
and were going to match her outfit for an event she was going to.
“Oh there so pretty, thank you so much.” She said admiring
them before reaching into her purse and pulling out a crisp ten dollar bill.
A few minutes later Brad - the VP of Operations - came on
stage in his expensive looking suit and tie. He couldn’t have been a day over
thirty which made me wonder how the hell he got his position. I was twenty-six
and nowhere near his professional level which reminded me that I’d wasted too
much time. But then my subconscious kicked in and ever so kindly reminded me of
the office politics that took place around here.
He probably knew someone or kissed a lot of ass to get to
his position in such a short amount of time.
He started by telling us how valued we were and thanking us
for our commitment to Alliance. A PowerPoint presentation began presenting a
slideshow which displayed pictures of bar graphs and line charts as he rambled
about the financial performance of the company for the last four quarters.
“How long is this going to last? Maybe they’ll let us leave
early once he’s done blabbing.” Jo said feeling my same sentiments.
Then five minutes after he’d started, I didn’t even see it
coming, he announced we were all laid off.
v
The next morning I woke up to the sound of early morning
moaning coming from my next door neighbor who obviously didn’t realize how
paper thin our bedroom walls were. I assumed she was busy getting it on with
her bald headed boyfriend I saw visiting her apartment from time to time who
always appeared a bit more flirtatious than friendly for my taste. I couldn’t
lie though; their moans sounded more soothing rather than irritating but I was
too tired and slightly hung over from the half bottle of wine I had the night
before to care enough to listen. As perverted as it makes me feel to admit it,
I’d been guilty of putting my ear to the wall and listening intently to the
forgotten erotic sounds of pleasure, however this morning I wasn’t the
slightest bit interested.
Last night turned out to be my one woman celebration for
officially being free from Alliance America and my pity party for being
unemployed with a bunch of bills, bills, bills. After being laid-off I made my
way to the bank to deposit my final paycheck and had the teller create a
cashier’s check for a month’s worth of rent. I figured that would hold me over
until I found another job or at least until my unemployment insurance kicked
in.
I called up Nina, one of the few friends I still spoke to
from high school, to see if she wanted to go to a bar or do something to
celebrate with me. But as usual she was too caught up in her boyfriend drama
and didn’t think she would be able to leave the house. Saundra who was my older
sister and confidant was out of town on a cruise with her family and wouldn’t
be back until tomorrow afternoon, so she was also out of the question. Feeling
friendless at that moment, I instead went to Lee’s Discount Liquor (a mega
alcohol warehouse chain in the valley) and bought a bottle of wine, then
splurged on some sushi and took my ass home to party.
Sure my celebration started out good when I imagined not
having to drive to that employee parking lot Monday morning with that heavy
feeling of dread that once got so bad I contemplated jumping out of the car
just to avoid clocking in. But then when I thought about my personal loans,
medical bills and credit cards I’d been working extra overtime to pay off I
felt overwhelmed and knew I had no choice but to find another job and quick.
As their arousing moans continued I complained to myself in
a low groggy tone, “It’s too damn early for this.”
I lay there for a few more moments before I realized I
couldn’t go back to sleep and blindly searched for the remote on my bed until I
found it. After pushing the ON button I turned the volume up loud enough to
drown out the moans then positioned myself on my back so I could view the TV.
Glancing out of the cracked vertical blinds I could see the
first parts of day seeping. The sun rays shone brightly against my artificial
yet realistic looking white roses that sat elegantly on my nightstand. They
were housed in a large mosaic vase which had quickly become one of my favorite
décor pieces around the house.
I recalled the day I received the shimmering purple and
silver vase in the mail along with a set of matching candle holders that sat
beside it. It was a gift from Oliver, my sister’s husband’s mentor in the legal
field who they tried fixing me up with about a year ago. But I wasn’t
interested. I wasn’t interested when he asked me out on a date, I wasn’t
interested when Saundra begged me to go and I definitely wasn’t interested when
he slid his bony hand up my bare thigh before I slapped his tongue back in his
mouth and stormed into my apartment. The package came with a short and vague
apology note that I’m sure he carefully construed as not to incriminate
himself. I would have thrown it away until I realized the package was from
Macy’s. Nina gave me the bright idea to search the vase set online and when I
saw the retail value was over a hundred and fifty dollars, I decided to keep it
as partial payment for my pain and suffering.
As it stands and has been understood, I’m single by choice
and have been for the last four years. For the last two I can truthfully say
I’ve been completely satisfied with that. I get asked out on dates and occasionally
when I go out at least one guy always asks for my number. But who has the
energy for love? The one deadly heartbreak I had to suffer through was painful
enough to last a lifetime and after taking two awful years to move past the
depression and the “what did I do wrong” questions, I had no interest.