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Today was brutal on the phones. Just brutal. I talked to a dying man for half an hour, and I didn't have the heart to interrupt him the way I am supposed to do, or to try and hurry his problem along. I just let him talk. He sounded so frightened and tired.
I talked to a woman on the verge of hysteria after discovering her stepdaughter had been molested. She kept apologizing, and I kept telling her it was okay to be upset, okay to cry and lose her train of thought. It was clear such a monstrosity have never been a real thing in her world, and the thought of it happening to her child made everything fragile.
I talked to a woman whose grandmother was being starved and exploited by another grandchild. I talked to a grandmother who was desperate to protect her grandchildren from their mother.
I talked to all these scared, sad people today. I feel sort of hollow, and exhausted. The part of my job that I didn't plan on was becoming a sort of counselor for so many of these people. That I think is something I've taken on for myself, because I know not everyone on the phones is willing or able to do that. But I try to reassure these people, I try to let them know that I care. Because I feel like they need that, right then. They need to know there are flesh and blood hearts on the end of thhe phone line inside the giant state machine.
And on my breaks I go outside under the impossible perfect sky to feel the wind on my skin and smoke cigarettes to count the minutes. It's hard to reconcile with that sky sometimes.
So I go to the store and pay too much money for prescriptions, and coffee. I watch little kids with their parents. I wonder about every single person around me, and take a certain comfort in the small acts of humanity and conversation I hear.
In case you're wondering or rolling your eyes on the other side of this luminous screen, I don't write about my job to make myself sound important. I don't write about it to make myself seem better than other people. There are a couple hundred people in my office all dealing with the same things every single day of the year. I'm sure my thoughts are not that different or even any more eloquent. I write about these things because I think they are keys to understanding. There were so many years when I didn't have any clue how other people lived. The internet has helped with that some, and I think this job helps more. I doubt it is ever going to lead me into any enlightened knowledge of the human race. But it makes me think so much more than anything else I've ever done.
I talked to a woman on the verge of hysteria after discovering her stepdaughter had been molested. She kept apologizing, and I kept telling her it was okay to be upset, okay to cry and lose her train of thought. It was clear such a monstrosity have never been a real thing in her world, and the thought of it happening to her child made everything fragile.
I talked to a woman whose grandmother was being starved and exploited by another grandchild. I talked to a grandmother who was desperate to protect her grandchildren from their mother.
I talked to all these scared, sad people today. I feel sort of hollow, and exhausted. The part of my job that I didn't plan on was becoming a sort of counselor for so many of these people. That I think is something I've taken on for myself, because I know not everyone on the phones is willing or able to do that. But I try to reassure these people, I try to let them know that I care. Because I feel like they need that, right then. They need to know there are flesh and blood hearts on the end of thhe phone line inside the giant state machine.
And on my breaks I go outside under the impossible perfect sky to feel the wind on my skin and smoke cigarettes to count the minutes. It's hard to reconcile with that sky sometimes.
So I go to the store and pay too much money for prescriptions, and coffee. I watch little kids with their parents. I wonder about every single person around me, and take a certain comfort in the small acts of humanity and conversation I hear.
In case you're wondering or rolling your eyes on the other side of this luminous screen, I don't write about my job to make myself sound important. I don't write about it to make myself seem better than other people. There are a couple hundred people in my office all dealing with the same things every single day of the year. I'm sure my thoughts are not that different or even any more eloquent. I write about these things because I think they are keys to understanding. There were so many years when I didn't have any clue how other people lived. The internet has helped with that some, and I think this job helps more. I doubt it is ever going to lead me into any enlightened knowledge of the human race. But it makes me think so much more than anything else I've ever done.