Tales Of Telesales

busted flush

Jonathan, ran to the toilet sobbing hysterically, straight into the cubical where he pulled down his pants and sat on the urine soaked seat. He didn't care anymore in fact the slightly warm, golden, moisture felt warm on hamstrings." Everyone else can access their computers, everyone else are pre publishing sites, everyone else are making calls....all im doing is eating pity chocolate given to me by my team leader", Jonathan silently exclaimed. He had been talking to himself all his life but after years of difficult counselling he finally managed to break the habit of a life time in August this year, however two days into his new job at Abtran the voices had returned and now he was as bad as ever. Standing up and wiping the tears away from his face he cleaned his hamstrings with the flimsy toilet paper provided by his employer. "Pull your self together man" he said as he slapped his face left and right, "get out there and demand some respect", "after all i have a licence to govern the skies il bet that fat ****er O Sullivan doesn't even have a fishing licence". And with that he left the whiter that white rest room, and steeped onto the floor again, and remembered what his "mental health nurse" had told him to do when faced with difficult situations....."imagine everyone is wearing Y fronts", Jonathan did and it helped as he made his way to his desk a sly smile broke the corners of his mouth.....

busted flush

Jonathan, returned to his desk his sprit may have been broken but no one needed to know. He sat down on his swivel chair and in a half hearted effort tried to do a 360, but only managed a pathetic 180. He hoped no one had noticed... and no one did. This however only cemented his lonlieness,"why....why....why does no one ever take even a blind bit of notice of me" he carefully muttered under his breath. "What did you say?" came the cheerful voice beside him. It was Luke, Jonathan hated Luke, everything about him. His bubbly personality, his keen dress sense, the ease in which he so effortlessly befriended everyone epically the girls....Jonathan love girls, but he found it almost impossible to talk to them. And if he ever did the conversation would invariable end up with him talking about serial killers and that's really no way to keep a girls attention now is it? "Nothing Luke...i was just clearing my troth", Jonathan said lying once again. "Oh that's fine there is defiantly something going around " Luke bellowed. Jonathan wanted him dead. "Yea...i think there is.....i think there is.

busted flush

Meanwhile, Sullivan was busy being inconspicuous. He listed it as one of his top ten traits, in his on-line dating profile, just under warm and caring,(all of which were lies of coarse ,he was only on there to pick up some lonely single mothers, they were "cheap dates" and desperate for some loving ). Sitting back on his height extended swivel chair, with his head-set strategically placed correctly, giving the impression that he might actually be on a call( this was the key to avoiding attention), he typed gibberish into a goggle search engine with a very serious, stern look upon his face. His thoughts were not on his eleven o clock meeting with "Kelticwater pumps", but instead they drifted out through the gaps of building three and meandered along the corridors of building two and into the canteen. Sullivan, was ravenous (he almost always was), and today even more than usual, thoughts of sausage rolls, croissants and brown bread were all he could think about. Eating and avoiding work at all costs were what motivated him and if he could combine both simultaneously, well then that is just about as good gets. He typed away feverishly in a brand new language and Luke looked on with a very worried look upon his face and thought to himself that he better get the finger out as this Sullivan chap was all business....how little he knew. Sullivan's stomach grumbled but the sound was clouded over by Sullivan's intense (insane) typing. He really worked hard at not working at all( Now if only i could actually say that on my dating profile he thought....ha ha ha id never get a ride if i did.)

busted flush

Helen <snip>, applied the last necessary bit of make up to her flawless skin. Brushed her self off, and admired what she saw in the mirror. The purple sarong ,she purchased over the weekend was perfect." They will never know", she thought to herself, "never", as she broke into a cackle laughter. Her handsome boyfriend entered the room wearing nothing but a damp towel, "What wrong love?", he quipped. "Nothing love, its just..... i love my job so much"! "Your weird Helen?" he responded with a genuine quizzical look on his face. Being a temp spy, to smoke out the weak and uninterested workers had got of to a fantastic start for Helen. Already she had a few candidates in her crosshairs, Sullivan was one and over the last few days Comerford too had come under her microscope. Suddenly she heard her phone ring....It was her boss looking for a update....the phone read....Michael O Sullivan.....Helen smiled it was time to give him an update!

busted flush

Helen answered the her nokia with an air of confidence only reserved for those teetering on the brink of arrogance, she was not arrogant though. However being from a small windy town in the west of Ireland, she always felt she needed to shout louder to heard. She always did. As she began the call, her hunky boyfriend discarded the damp, flimsy, towel that had up to then hidden his obvious manhood. Helen blushed, and then laughed(silently), as he posed in various humorous ways to make her break her steely business facade. She gestured to him in a half hearted way to stop, after all she had business to conduct, but when he picked up her bra and put it on she honestly could not control herself anymore and broke down in hysterics dropping the brand new, Abtran ,company, Nokia 3210 on the floor........"hello........Helen......"are you there.....mmmmm".

busted flush

Michael tried to rip his headset off in disgust but some how his became entwined in his four foot long mane of thick hair. This only added to his fury, he had always trusted his judgment and would not have chosen Helen for this covert operation, but the VC team leader Martha had convinced him otherwise. She needed to be given authority but he felt her decision to pick the small, west, of Ireland girl was a tad amateurish. Martha had stared him down in her absolute faith of Helen and as she was his right hand man, he needed to show his trust in her. But already cracks were beginning to appear in her behaviour. Late for work on Wednesday and absent on Monday, Helen was fast becoming an Achilles heal than an allie.He logged into his spread sheet and looked at yesterdays sales, he couldn't believe it Sullivan(his original choice for the mole), was top."Im never wrong" he said ....."Im never wrong.

busted flush

Jack, was happy, he rarely was but for now he was very, very satisfied. He had passed his interview effortlessly, getting almost a perfect score in the spelling test, the only word he misspelled was "Serial" and he had a perfectly sound reason for that. His charming persona, had the La crème interviewee actually eating out of his had( he offered her some minstrels in the car park after and she blushed as she cheekily took two), so confidant was he that he had got job he even asked her out for a"drink". La crème staff had a strict no dating with clients policy, but Leona, really felt a spark that day and readily accepted. Later that evening Jack dumped Leona's lifeless semi naked body into the Lee. A master of crime scene forensics and with a solid alibi he had always fancied himself as a modern day "Ted Bundy". As he sped along the link road , his face warm from the adrenalin of his sixth kill in as many months, Jack hummed the theme tune to the America classic sit com, "Married with children" . The irony of the song not lost on him. He chuckled to himself and spelled out the word SERIAL, perfectly!

busted flush

"Another one published", John shouted. "That's three so far", he said, just loud enough to gain Sullivan's attention. "One more now and il set a new record and its not even lunch!", Sullivan was as usual, not interested, in fact he was kind of pissed off, as he was having a particularly vivid daydream about him being locked in a prison cell made completely out of Cadburys cream eggs. And now the moment had been shattered by Johns obnoxious outburst. Those are the kind of dreams that don't happen every day he thought to himself. He imagined himself, nibbling on the walls and sucking the white and yellow gooey stuff all out and then crawling into the empty tunnel where he would finally escape to freedom albeit a few pounds heavier. "For **** sake",Sullivans voice laced with despair. John was ecstatic this was exactly the reaction he was looking for. If only he knew that Sullivan did not give a flying **** about sales and that Yesterdays results were firmly built on a healthy dose of luck. The Glanmire native had ambitions though, John saw himself as "better" than his fellow colleagues, he frowned upon most of their pathetic efforts but kept this low key hostility bubbling under the surface. Sullivan had to fall, and he was going to orchrastrate it......but he needed a pawn, someone to take the fall, but who?

busted flush

News, of the missing La Crème employee finally subsided, when her dead and bloated body washed up in the nearby costal town of cobh. Cork detective, Dick Nagle was as usual at the scene first. "Dam...not a trace of anything, not even a semen stain to take back to the lab" he sighed, Dick loved semen samples! The Cork Special police force"CSPF", that dealt murders and the macabre has recently acquired a second hand, on sight forensic, data machine, from the set of CSI Miami, that could accurately detect any type of evidence that might be later meticulously examined back at their lab/canteen. Dick was dejected, he had for a long time suspected a serial killer was trawling the dark and dangerous streets of Cork. This was the sixth young woman to wash up on the shores of the southern capital since March. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply...and then went into a convulsion of coughing ,Dick didn't smoke, but he always felt it was necessary to do so when he couldn't explain a situation and now was one of those occasions. "Wait...what's this", a clue? a break?....the bit of paper read "Truvo...Date"
" A lead ", he choked through a thick fog of uninhaled cigarette smoke ...."A lead.