I suppose it wouldn't take a sykyatrist* to analyze the dream which awoke me this morning.
I was in a classroom, but selling computers over the phone. The teacher called me to the front of the room, handed me a piece of paper, and told me I needed to see the principal. So, I go to the principal's office, hand her the piece of paper, and she asks me, "Did you say this?" as she hands it back to me. I look at it for the first time, and it has a code on it for something at work. I reply, "Sure -- what's wrong with that?" The principal says, "Well, nothing -- it's just that one of your co-workers overheard you talking to this customer, and they complained. No big deal -- you can get back on the phones, now."
I go back to the classroom, and walk up to the teacher, to let her know what transpired. "You understand that we can't have your co-workers offended by your conversations with customers, right?" I explained that the customer was turned down for credit, and had told me (and here, in the dream, I break down, completely, and start crying uncontrollably) that her son had lost his legs in Iraq, and she was hoping to be able to get a computer to help him to learn new skills. "All I said was that I hoped her son comes home soon and safely... and then I transferred her to (our rent-to-own partner)."
Man, I'm still creeped out by that.
* Thanks to the Eschaton trolls for that one.
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2 comments :
wow. that's what you get for having a heart, eh???
SD
Yeah, I guess -- it was very creepy, since I did hear a story almost exactly like this from a mother, whose son was disabled as a result of an IED in Iraq, and she thought it would help her son to learn a new trade if she had a new PC in the house to help him through his recovery. Of course, this struck me quite deeply, and I thanked her for her son's sacrifice, and wished her and her family the best. Fortunately, in that case, she was very much able to pay for the new system, but I guess the call intermingled subconsiously into a horrible guilt trip, where all I could do is transfer this poor soul into a rent-to-own exploitation scheme in order to meet her needs. It made me ponder my frustration and feelings of helplessness of how trapped all of us really are in the goddamned nightmare of a fuck-up of a war, as well as our own personal traps that prevent us from doing more to stop it.
I can't help but feel that this dream will haunt me, relentlessly, for quite some time to come.
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