You are sleeping in on a public holiday when that familiar beep beep of an incoming sms calls you from the dream world. Like an attention seeking prat, it wants your time at the moment you least want to give it. No way. You flop over, maneuvering into that cool corner of the bed unspoiled by body heat. Not today.
Today is the day you ignore the overbearing summons of the phone. You don't get my attention just because you demand it! You settle back into the cot of warmth, security and familiarity, letting out a contented sigh. A smirk escapes your visage. Ahhh.. Today is the day you show them who's boss. Back at home, you are the king of your castle, and no marauding barbarians can scale the high walls you've erected around your sanity.
You begin that inexorable descent back into that restful state, almost returning to that paradise you were unwillingly ordered from. Just a little while more before saccharine sweet bliss. Before salvation for the senses, constantly put on edge the hectic days and blustering weeks and exacting months before. You are drifting off into that serene state of peace, of deserved sloth, when suddenly..
BRRRNGGGG.. The phone belts out its pent up frustration, calling an abrupt end to the silence and stupor of the morning. As if indignant for being ignored, it returns with a vengeance. A shrill cry will work where a gentle nudge has failed. You stir from your slumber, brushing away the sleep from your eyes. What? The sun is not even that high into the afternoon sky yet! Peering onto the glaringly bright LCD screen, you see a number.. and it's foreign. Arg.. who's calling this early on the morning of rest?
Hello? The groggy words escape your parched lips. What in the devil is so important for a follow-up call barely minutes after a missed SMS?
Are you the professional*? A voice rasped on the other side.
Yes? How can I (not) help you? Funny how the answer you imagine is not the answer that comes out. Whether because it's so well rehearsed and or because it's been drummed into your consciousness, you reply instead, Good morning sir. How can I help you?
In that instant, it's game mode on. You don't know at which point it is along the continuum, but it happens. Like a switch to a machine, the processor whirls to life. Like a spark to a kindle, the bonfire spirals in the night sky. One minute you're dreaming of a snug embrace, of waffles and strawberry ice-cream, of times when the body is able and strong. The next minute all the facts and figures and numbers and maps flood into your cognizance. And it's not only the brain that changes.
That voice squeaky with hints of slumber takes on a more gravelly texture. It becomes confident and smooth - like a professional. Keenly tuned to the ebb and flow of the deal, it guides the client. It hums along. It cajoles. It promises to deliver. It reassures. It says a lot without saying much at all. Together with the brain, it is a weapon of inducement.
Ok sir. It's confirmed then. See you tomorrow. Yes.. don't worry. Our fees are reasonable. Oh you require it urgently? Ok we will expedite the job for you. Thank you sir.
Deal done.
*the word professional has been replaced for the name of a certain occupation
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