Free Hart’s Desires (Volume One – The First Day) (Hart's Desires) by Ana Vela Page A

excuses fumbled out of my mouth, neither sounding acceptable, even to my own ears.
     
    “Monday is our busiest morning.” She pushed back her blonde hair and glared at me. With her looks, she could’ve been a fashion model; she towered over me. I felt like the ugly stepsister standing next to her. ”Make sure you’re here early next Monday. If you survive here that long.”
     
    “Will do.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to sound professional, but inside I already wanted to curl up behind the desk and start crying.
     
    “Can you make sure people sign? Can you handle that?” she said it loud enough for most of the people near our desk to hear her and her bitchy tone. When I met her on the Friday before, she had been sweet to me, even sounded glad to meet me. Now, I was guessing that was just an act that she put on because Mrs. Rodriguez, the H.R. director was giving me a tour. Now that she wasn’t there, Samantha quickly showed what she really thought of me.
     
    “Sure.” I tried to put on a fake smile. I couldn’t even do that right.
     
    “Make sure they put who they are here to see or you’ll have to guess and I don’t see that going very well.” She pointed towards the sign-in sheet and the long line of people, and then turned back to the phone.
     
    I made sure they filled out their information correctly and kept the line moving. I rubbed my tired eyes. I needed coffee, but didn’t dare ask for some. I ran out of time this morning to make coffee and I prayed that somewhere nearby there would be a coffee machine that I could use when it slowed down, if it ever slowed down.
     
    After twenty minutes, the line disappeared and we had everyone going in the right direction. I wiped off my forehead and hoped that we would get a break before the next rush.
     
    “Good job there,” Samantha said with a sarcastic tone that told me she didn’t really mean it.
     
    “Thanks.”
     
    “Ready to learn how to answer the phone?”
     
    “Sure.” How hard could that be? I thought to myself.
     
    “When the phone rings, a light will blink next to the line number. All you have to do is pick up the phone and match the blinking light. You can do that, right?”
     
    “Sure.” I wanted to say that I wasn’t a two year old and of course I could do that. But I stayed silent.
     
    “Then you say, ‘Thank you for calling Hart Technologies Inc., how can I help you?’ Got it?” Although Samantha looked about my age, she reminded me of the 90-year-old teacher I had in sixth grade. She was close to retiring, but couldn’t yet and she took out her frustration on the students. “If they ask you a question that you don’t know, which will probably happen a lot, press the big orange hold button and hand the phone to me.”
     
    I nodded my head yes.
     
    “If we’re busy, we still have to answer the phone. Just answer it, and then ask them to hold. So far so good?”
     
    “Yes.”
     
    “If they know who they want to talk to, hit the grey transfer button, then type in the extension number.” She handed me a small stack of papers, giving me a paper cut on my palm in the process. She saw me start to bleed, but didn’t do or say anything. I found a tissue and pressed it against the cut, afraid to show any signs of pain or weakness. “The front page is extensions for each department. The pages after that are alphabetical by last name. Got it?”
     
    “Yes.”
     
    “Good. When the phone rings next, it’s all you.”
     
    Right on cue, the phone rang and started blinking. I picked it up, and then carefully pressed the button with the blinking light. My finger shook; at this point I was honestly not sure if I would even be able to answer a phone right. “Hello,” I said unsure of myself, “thank you for calling Hart Technologies Inc. How can I help you?”
     
    “Accounts payable please,” the male voice on the other end of the phone said.
     
    “Please hold.” I looked down at the list in