The Customer Is Always...

by Stuart Keane

  William read the email and his face didn’t change. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked.

  Vincent shook his head. He mouthed the word “no”.

  William smiled. “You’re pulling my leg right?”

  Vincent didn’t do anything. He just stared at William, one thought in his head.

  Prick!

  Vincent typed into the box again.

  JUST RESTART THE POLICY. LET ME KNOW WHEN DONE. HE WON’T LET ME HANG UP.

  The other man read the words. He glanced at Vincent. William plugged his phone into Vincent’s phone hub, with the intention of speaking to the customer. Vincent panicked at first, but, he reasoned, since he was still on the phone he wasn’t breaking the rules. “Mr. Pierce, my team lea —”

  “This is William, I’m Vincent’s team leader,” he interrupted. “And who am I speaking to?”

  “William,” Alan Pierce replied. “That’s a nice name. I once had a dog with that name. Actually, his name was Bill but that’s neither here nor there. Now, William, I assume Vincent has updated you on the situation. Which means you’re making a huge mistake by not doing what he says.”

  William laughed.

  “Sorry, sir, but I haven’t got time … we don’t have time for people who hold up our phone lines with hoax calls. It’s a bit drastic to demand a policy restart in this way.”

  “I’m not demanding anything. I’m simply asking for what is due to me. And I’m not people, I’m a customer, and I expect to be treated as such.”

  “And that would be by restarting the policy?”

  “Yes. Yes it would be.”

  “And what is the punishment for not doing this?”

  Vincent sat in his chair, head in his hands. What the hell was William doing? Leanne was still logged out. Trevor had joined her at this point. Graham had put his book down. Nicola was still away from her desk.

  “Well since it’s taken, let me see, over fifteen minutes to do what I say, it seems you aren’t willing to cooperate with me on this. Which, to me, is a big fucking insult.”

  A woman’s scream pierced Vincent’s ear. William pulled the phone away from his ear. Even Leanne heard it from her position across from Vincent. Some shuffling could be heard. A stiff slap ended the noise before the words: “Shut the fuck up.”

  Vincent saw the colour drain out of William’s face. He was realising his mistake.

  Mr. Pierce wasn’t bluffing.

  Vincent closed his eyes.

  “Now … William. What qualifications do you have? A GNVQ in customer service? A masters in being a fucking moron? I think the bubblegum on the sole of my shoe has more intelligence than you. Because of your insolence, I’m now going to remove a finger from this lady’s left hand. You only have yourself to blame. I was enjoying talking to Vincent, he was doing a fine job until you came along. Maybe you will learn to acquiesce to my demands from now on.”

  There was more shuffling.

  Then a violent, horrifying scream.

  Vincent closed his eyes.

  William fainted at the desk and fell to the floor. Leanne began to cry. Vincent’s entire team was now looking at him.

  He wished his team leader, Sarah, was there. William was amateur hour compared to her.

  “That was easy…” Mr. Pierce came back to the phone. “Take that as a warning. I deal with Vincent. You do as he says.”

  Vincent cleared his throat. “I’m still here, Mr. Pierce. I’m afraid William fainted.”

  “Nice to have you back, Vincent. He fainted? My, what a pussy. I’ve changed my mind. Restarting my policy won’t solve anything. It won’t bring Lucy back. It’s clear your fuckwit managers aren’t willing to help me in that department.”

  Vincent was confused. “What can I help you with now?”

  Mr. Pierce laughed. “Let’s talk compensation.”

  SIX

  MONDAY

  9:34AM

  “Compensation?” Vincent asked.

  “Yes, compensation. I want what I’m owed.”

  “Mr. Pierce, give me one second. William just came to.”

  By now, William had recovered. He had left the immediate area, an embarrassed hue of red in his cheeks as he talked on his mobile phone. Within two minutes, three other team leaders and the unit manager were huddled together in the corner of the room. They were shooting hasty glances at Vincent, who scribbled on his pad again and tore the sheet off.

  He gave the note to Leanne. He then pointed at the managers and Leanne went over to them. She read the note. It said:

  NO POLICE. OR SHE DIES.

  Vincent watched the note make its way across the room. The managers read it in unison and cursed loudly. Vincent doubted they had protocols and measures in place for this but he could be wrong. He focused back to the call. “What were you thinking of?” he asked.

  “Let’s just say three grand is a fucking joke.”

  “Fair enough, I understand.” Vincent agreed with the statement. Mentioning three thousand pounds to someone who had lost their loved one in dire circumstances wasn’t a good move.

  “So how much do you want?” he said.

  There was a pause. “A million. One million pounds.”

  Vincent gasped. He had heard it. He did nothing to conceal his surprise. Leanne stood up, and tears now streaked her face, mascara leaving thin black trails down her cheeks. Vincent collected his breath and calmed himself.

  “That’s, that’s a lot of money, Mr. Pierce.”

  “I know. It’s pennies for your company, though. You fucked up, you took my insurance away from me. For all intents and purposes, you killed my little girl.”

  Vincent knew the customer was wrong. He didn’t state it though. Keeping Mr. Pierce in a neutral mood was obviously best for all concerned.

  “When do you want this? I mean, how do you want this money?” Vincent scribbled on the notepad again:

  1 MILLION QUID. CUSTOMER DEMANDS.

  Vincent tore off the note and handed it to Leanne again. She looked at it. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened. It took her a second to stand up and approach the managers with it. They took one look and turned away. Vincent saw their body language physically change at the sheer audacity of the demand. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

  “I want the money wired to an account,” continued the caller. “It won’t be my account so don’t bother trying to trace it. When I get the money and when my demands are met, I will let the hostage go.”

  Vincent didn’t know how banks worked.

  The timeframes eluded him. He doubted it was a fast procedure though. He pushed the problem from his mind. “Arranging this could take some time —”

  “Time you don’t fucking have, Vincent,” Mr. Pierce cut him off. “Do you think I’m fucking around here?”

  “No, no, I’m just saying it’s a lot of money. A large sum.”

  “I bet your fucking company would demand it on the spot if a customer owed it to them. They’d probably send bailiffs to the customer’s home to steal their hard earned possessions.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they would. To be honest, I don’t know how that would work. I’m not even sure this is something we can do. You know, I’m sure there are protocols and stuff … but this sort of call doesn’t happen every day.”

  “That’s because people are weak. They let their insurance companies fuck them over. They might as well lube their puckered arseholes in preparation. I hate insurance companies, you treat people like shit, as if we’re whores, and you expect us to smile whilst doing it.”

  Vincent said nothing.

  “Now, Vincent, I know this is a big deal, it’s a large sum. I understand even a company like yours has red tape because of the need to avoid being used for money laundering purposes. I’m giving you this one opportunity. You can put me on hold, just once. You’ll need to discuss this with your managers and get them to compensate me for my loss. Remember, if you hang up I will kill her.”

  “That’s against
the rules, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t push my patience. I was a considerate guy before your company ruined my life … and you’re lucky I gave you this chance.”

  “I appreciate it, Mr. Pierce. Do I have a time limit?” Vincent shook his head in desperation.

  The guy was insane. He had to keep things calm.

  “Ten minutes. No more, no less.”

  “Okay … hang on.”

  Vincent switched the clock to his phone’s screen. He set the stopwatch. It stood at 0.00.

  “Right, I’m ready.”

  “Setting a stopwatch?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “You seem organised. If I’d been speaking to a new recruit today, this experience would have been positively dangerous for all involved.”

  Vincent didn’t want to think about that scenario.

  Even three years in the job hadn’t prepared him for this call.

  “Back in ten, Mr. Pierce.”

  He pushed the hold button. He started the stopwatch.

  His team members all jumped up. All the phones were logged off. Vincent closed his eyes and breathed. He opened them again.

  “No one, for the love of God, touch that fucking phone,” he announced. “Leanne, keep an eye on the clock on my mobile.”

  Leanne jumped up from her seat and moved to Vincent’s. The reluctant negotiator ran over to the managers huddled in the corner. William was sweating, the colour having returned to his cheeks. The other team leaders, Ian and Mitchell, and the unit manager, Julia, were deep in thought.

  “Where the hell is Sarah today?” Vincent asked.

  Julia piped up. “She called in sick.”

  He looked at her. “Really? Thanks for letting us know.” Vincent didn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice.

  Julia stared daggers at him.

  Vincent breathed out. “Right, this guy … this is really fucked up. He’s threatening to kill a woman if we don’t compensate him.”

  “Is he for real?” asked Julia.

  He nodded, glancing at William, who also nodded, adding, “Yes, that scream curdled my blood. This guy isn’t playing around.”

  Julia rubbed her chin.

  No one said anything.

  “Anyway, time is beckoning. This is the story so far.”

  SEVEN

  MONDAY

  7:45AM

  That morning, Vincent had awoken early.

  Earlier than usual. He’d been rolling around in bed for an hour. The stuffy air didn’t permit him to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning, he got up.

  He showered and shaved. He ate some bacon and eggs.

  Then he returned to bed, remaining there for another hour.

  At 08:31 he stepped out of his apartment.

  Finally, he walked to work.

  On his journey, he stopped to grab a coffee. As was usually the case, he finished his drink before he reached the office. Vincent loved coffee. He drank unhealthy amounts of the good black stuff. Never with sugar. It was all he did drink, though. He found that it kept him going. On a Monday morning, when he felt a headache coming on, it felt like the most important thing in his life.

  He doubted if all the caffeine actually helped but thought, why break the habit of a lifetime?

  On his way to work, he passed the District River. Sunlight bounced off the water’s surface, calming him. Sometimes he would stand on the bridge, looking down into the water below. He made a note to do so on the way home today. Monday was always the worst day of the week.

  The road verged off the main street that led to his office. He’d bought the coffee from a vendor close by the local Maplin depot. His usual journey took twelve minutes. Today it took thirteen, as the traffic lights had turned red, delaying his progress.

  When he reached the office, he went up to the third floor and retrieved his belongings from his locker, then made his way to his desk. After he’d set up his workstation, he went and made his second coffee of the morning, bringing it back to his desk. The morning, up to this point was routine.

  Whilst sitting there, he remembered it was Monday. There was something significant about the date. Minutes before the day started, he remembered Sarah telling him about her weekend by text. Sarah was a very committed team leader. There was no mention of sickness. She wouldn’t be absent because of sickness unless she was at death’s door. That was her attitude, and many people admired her for it. What’s more, she was rarely late to work.

  For some reason, Sarah’s absence nagged at Vincent. Then 9 a.m. hit and the rest, as they say, is history.

  When Julia cut in with a question, it broke his reverie and thoughts about the morning, and brought him back to reality. His mind phased out.

  EIGHT

  MONDAY

  9:45AM

  “…So you are telling me this nut-job wants a million pounds … in cash. Now?” said Julia.

  Vincent nodded, saying nothing.

  Leanne yelled from across the room: “Three minutes.”

  The floor had become a circus. Trevor was earwigging from his desk a few feet behind. He was on his second can of Rockstar now. Vincent noticed this and wondered what damage that stuff could do to your kidneys. Nicola had returned from her adventure, a confused look on her face. She wondered what was going on. Graham was still reading his book. Leanne was playing human countdown with Vincent’s mobile. No one in Vincent’s team was taking calls.

  Ian cleared his throat. “It can’t be done. There’s no way we can authorise such a transaction even if it was feasible. We should get the guy’s details and send them to the police. In fact, that’s what I’m going to do.” Ian started to head to Vincent’s desk.

  Vincent stepped in front of him. “Don’t … or he will kill her.”

  “Bullshit, we don’t even know if he even has a hostage.”

  “Two minutes,” shouted Leanne.

  William said nothing.

  Vincent shook his head. “Are you willing to take that risk? You haven’t been listening, have you? William heard the woman scream, hell; I’m surprised the whole floor didn’t hear it.

  "That wasn’t a fake scream. You can’t pretend to scream like that. He hurt that woman, and he won’t hesitate to kill her if we go against his demands.”

  “Who’s to say he hasn’t got someone faking it on the other end?” suggested Ian. “It’s pure speculation. No, this is a matter for the police. Get out of my way.”

  “Did you not hear me? There’s no way that was a fake scream. I’ve seen enough bad horror movies to know it was legitimate.”

  “Not my problem, Vincent.” Ian pushed him aside.

  Vincent refrained from stopping him. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t play with a woman’s life like this. You aren’t in a position to make this choice and you can’t be that naïve to risk it .An innocent girl could die today. This guy has lost everything in the past few months and we are on his priority list for a majority of the blame. Pushing him now is suicidal. For her and for us.”

  Ian turned to Vincent. “I don’t care. I’m not backing down to someone who feels we owe him for this situation he’s in. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Vincent gasped in amazement and couldn’t help but laugh. “We cancelled his insurance policy …without prior notice. That was our error, not his. It ruined his life. We might not be responsible for this, but in his mind, we are. In every meaning of the word. A bucket load of shit landed on his doorstep and our cancelling his insurance was the straw that broke the camel’s back. And now his kid is dead. We have to accept some blame for this.”

  “His kid would have died anyway, there’s nothing we could’ve done. We would’ve paid three grand for it, that’s it. I doubt any amount of money will really soothe him at this point.”

  Vincent shook his head. “Have you listened to yourself? Put yourself in his shoes. What if your kid had died? The grieving process is different for everyone.”

  Ian turned to face Vincent. “Well, I would hav
e been a responsible father in the first place.

  "This guy can’t blame his woes on everyone but himself. This isn’t our problem anymore. Get out of my way.” Ian barged past Vincent.

  Vincent stood dumbfounded. “Unbelievable!”

  Ian smiled arrogantly. “Excuse me?”

  Vincent stepped towards Ian. “You heard me.”

  “One minute.”

  Neither of them spoke.

  Vincent started back to his desk. Ian followed and stopped him, saying, “After this is over, you’re suspended. How dare you talk to me like that?”

  The other man didn’t even turn around. “You can’t suspend me … I quit. I’ve seen a new side to this company in the past few months. I want nothing to do with it. Consider this as me giving in my notice. Now get away from my computer so I can finish my fucking job.”

  Ian said nothing and turned away. Vincent felt all eyes on him. Leanne smiled weakly at him. Trevor continued to chug his Rockstar. A silence settled on the team.

  Thirty seconds of Alan Pierce’s deadline time remained.

  Vincent put his headset on.

  He was about to minimize his emails when he saw two messages in the inbox. The first was from Trevor. He wanted to join Vincent for lunch. He looked up. Trevor raised his Rockstar into the air, a mini gesture. Vincent smiled weakly.

  Fifteen seconds.

  The second email stopped him dead, but he now had more pressing matters to attend to. He’d come back to it. He clicked the phone back on. “Mr. Pierce?”

  “Ahhh, Vincent. With a second to spare. Impressive. Where do we stand?”

  Vincent swallowed.

  “This might take longer than expected.”

  “Not an option. You know what I want.”

  “It’s a management thing. You know how managers are…” Vincent glared at Ian.

  “I do indeed. Bunch of corporate bastards, the lot of them, but that’s not the point. You had an order and you failed me.”