Part III

So, carrying on. Each day, I scan an excel spreadsheet of clients who have utilised Bedouk's services in the past. They are organized by time zone. First thing after I begin work, I call the UAE, cause they've been up for a while. I catch South Africa and the Scandinavian countries by mid morning, wait to call England before lunch, and am talking to New York and Rio De Janeiro by the afternoon. Each country has their own flavour, I'm learning. The Germans have investigative secretaries, Morocco and Tunisia give me empty promises, and the Argentinians stumble poorly and bravely through their English. If the French, Belgium, and Luxembourg clients are nice, I switch to French (If not, them flounder). My favorite are the Dutch,m who seem tickled when I ask them about their day and wish them a nice weekend. I've already arrived at that all too familiar level of recognition known to secretaries, so Rachel of Sweden and Ahmed of Egypt know my voice.

And then there are the French that sit around me. Marie to the front, Cyril to my left, Valere behind me and a floor to ceiling window to my right where I watch old metro cars rush to and from Paris and tiny cars circle the grandiose fountain in unassuming Antony. Cyril stands up and tests the limits of his phone cord, pacing as much as one can pace in a two feet tethered radius around his desk as he makes his sales calls. Marie uses me as a walking translation programas she mirrors the French website with its International (see: English) counterpart. Valere is the snarky web master who has me writing articles for the weekly newsletter. We make paper airplanes, we share gum, we make talk about the weird guy I just got off the phone with.