National Care Department

The National Care department.

The National care department was set up as a helpline to combat the nation’s deep personal isolation syndrome. The idea was to provide a keen ear to lean onto, to let people vent about the incompetents of their friends, the failings of their families and the idiocy of their co-workers. It was the sympathetic stranger on a park bench, a drop of sunshine on the last mortgage payment, the brief break between the grind. The line was set up on the government budget chaired by a jaded ex-job centre manager with an astoundingly honest character and a collection of lavish hobbies such as horticulture, tea making and church going. Initially, the helpline was a moderate success, or at the very least got the nation to smile more[citation needed], however, after a series of incidents and budget cuts it closed down. The department didn’t leave many records, but we have come upon some transcriptions of conversations from the last month of it’s short year.

“title – Mrs Henderson”

-Hello?

-Yes, hello.

-Is this…

-Yes, hello madam, this is an official branch of NC department. How can I upset you today?

-What?

-Nothing. What seems to be the problem?

-Well, you see my son has lost both of his legs in a car accident…

-Why was he driving?

-What?

-Why was he using a car?

-Well, he was going to pick up my sister’s grandchildren…

-Ooooh, right. You should’ve started with that then.

-Well, he was driving to pick up his nephews…. And he got into a horrible crash on a side road….and now he’s in the hospital and I don’t know what to do and I don’t know if he’ll recover and I lost my daughter last year and….

-Ma’am. Ma’am. Stop. You sound like you’re crying. Is that right?

-ye..yes. sorry.

– What was your son’s name?

-James.

-Well look, James is still alive, isn’t he?

-Yes.for now, the hospital-

-He’s alive and that is what you should be focused on.

-But I’m worri-

-Your son is alive. Thank you for calling NC department. Have a pleasant day.

“end of conversation”

“title – Josh called”

-Hello?

-Hello. I’m afraid none if our operators are available, please call in later.

-Steve, I know your machine voice.

-Our operators are unvailable, please call later.

-Steve, I think I’m not cut for this job.

-No operators..

-Steve, common, humor me. I’m serious.

-Our operators are highly trained and compassionate individuals.

-Maybe. But listening to all the different problems takes a toll.

-If you think if you might fit the role, please consult our introductory training manual.

-Its not that I don’t care anymore Steve. Well, kind of. It’s more that they don’t care.

-As an operator, one of the benefits you might receive is helping people feel better.

-I mean, yeah, it’s a job. And last night I talked a girl into contacting her mother.

-…

-Today though I was screamed at by a self entitled bitch about how I don’t understand her feelings about her break up and how easy it must be for me to just sit and listen to her. Her boyfriend probably got sick of her and left. And the night before that was an old lady demanding me to find her son. And the night before it was a student ranging about his exams and his girlfriend and how she – an art student – doesn’t understand the pressure of being a politics student, and how stressed he is and how she can afford to ‘relax’ and make tea for herself, and minutes later I get a call – and who is it, but a girl whose boyfriend won’t even make her tea if she’s ill and doesn’t think much of her degree in art, I mean, can’t they fucking see they have a problem?! A problem to discuss between themselves?!

-Remember, if you feel personally affected by callers, take a break..

-I don’t want to take a break, I want to quit, goddam it! These people they expect me to solve their problems, and I’m not… I can’t! I can’t solve their problems! I’m just here to let them talk! And it’s not easy! And I feel like shit because I can’t help them, but you know what their problems is? They don’t even try to fucking help themselves, they don’t even try talking to their so called boyfriends, they don’t even try to change their lives for better. They just sit there, complaining, complaining at me and expect me to tell them what to do! What kind of fucking job is that?!

-Hey. Hey, man, I get it. Next shift is coming over. Let’s go for a beer, yeah?

-…Fine.

“end of conversation”

“title – ok cat”

-Hello, National Care department. How can we help you today?

-…mrrr

-Hello?

-….

-It’s OK to be hesitant, please, take your time if necessary.

-…meui

-Sorry, could you repeat that?

-…mui

– I’m afraid I can’t quite hear you.

-..meaw..meeaw…meaw

-err…is that a cat calling?

-…

-…kitty, kitty, kitty…?

-*sound of something crashing then line going dead*

“end of conversation”