“No, Sara, we cannot.” I keep my eyes on the monitor, finishing up the paperwork on a previous successful call.
“Please. I have something to tell you. It’s important.” Sara looks at me beseechingly, and I can’t say no to her, damn it.
“OK. I can give you ten minutes during my break. Half an hour from now.” My tone is terse because I hate being manipulated into doing something I don’t want to do. I push it to the back of my mind while I continue my work. As much as I hate this work, I’m good at it, and I want to be as professional as possible. I go to the break room when it’s time, and there’s Sara with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. I sit down across from her and lean back. I’m sure she can sense I don’t want to be there, but I don’t care. I’m already kicking myself for agreeing to talk to her, and I wait impatiently to hear what she has to say.
“Have you ever loved someone so much you’d do anything for them?” Sara asks, her voice small. Oh god. I don’t want to be her Mother Confessor, and I don’t care about her tawdry personal problems.
“Grow up, Sara,” I say wearily. “You’re not a child any longer. That isn’t love—it’s codependency.” I stand up, suddenly tired of this conversation.
“I did something really bad!” Sara blurts out. “The person I love doesn’t even know I’m alive, so I did something to make them notice me.”
“I’m sorry you’re having such difficulties, but this is work. You need to get it together and keep this to yourself.” I stride out of the breakroom, furious at myself for falling for her bullshit again. I stop at the bathroom to avail myself of the facility and to splash water onto my face. I need to get my temper in check before I go back to work. Nobody will buy anything from an agitated, snappish bitch, so I take several minutes to get myself under control. Once I feel as if I’m OK, I walk back to the work room and slide into my seat. Sara is at her desk, and it’s clear she’s been sobbing hard. I really hope Cara fires her so I can have her out of my hair and life.