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stab-the-son-of-a · 3 years

Text

Whumpers Only

I wish I could explain how this got away from me but I have no words. Not quite a caretaker, so, sorry anon, but here you go.

CW: Brief drug and alcohol mention

The itemized call history that crossed Detective Vance’s desk is deceptively extensive and several pages thick, despite being only for a few months’ span of time. Forensics still have their hands all over the cell phone itself, and the detective has a few choice words they could say about the forensic team’s work ethic, but they’re not in the practice of layering their insults in honey. Their bread and butter is to to dig and root around for information, like some sort of truffle pig, and their tongue is regularly knotted. The detective finds themself quite defective when it comes to spinning the same pleasant, nuanced banter, certainly not enough to keep up with the man down in forensics with the sugar sweet smile.

So, itemized call list it is. It took the detective an obscene amount of time to cross reference the numbers against every possible database and to confirm the pattern to the suspect's behaviors and narrow down which numbers are legitimate. Most of all, which of these numbers matches the spurious rumor of a hotline.

A ‘whump’ hotline. There are many, many similar mentions in certain circles and apparently coded messages sent through various forms of advertising, and yet, this is the closest Jesse has come to interacting with that sphere. They’re not sure, but they think that might be why they still can’t bring themself to finish dialing.

The information has always been there, readily accessed in the same sort of way drugs and alcohol are accessible - a thinly veiled barrier, a little social based pressure to avoid or partake depending on the circles. For years, Jesse has been a teetotaler and avoided whump content in any respect, and kept that influence from their life.

It’s odd to abandon that part of their life, that internal badge of never having indulged.

It’s for a case, however, so they finally stop their waffling and dial.

Not long after, on the second ring, someone picks up. “Hello and thank you for calling 1-877-WHMP-NOW, the whump specialist hotline.” The person on the other end, an operator of some sort, offers a friendly greeting.

Off balanced by just how cordial the other person sounds, Jesse hesitates a moment to collect themself. They just have to pretend to want to be a whumper. That couldn't be too hard. “Um…” they mumble, then clear their throat. “Um, hi, I... want to learn to whump. My name is-”

“Oh. Excuse me, I’ll have to place you on hold while a representative finishes with another client.”

The cheery hold music is far more underwhelming than anything else and Jesse frowns at the phone, as if it’s the device’s fault, before sighing and settling on their couch, one leg tossed over the arm while they wait.

And wait.

Eventually they start mirroring the words of the automated voice recording, interjecting with their own commentary in the brief pauses between statements.

“All our lines are busy at the moment.”

“And here at Whump Corp or whatever these moments last a lifetime,” Jesse snorts as they try yet again to find another position on the couch. Their curly hair serves little by way of cushioning from the carpet as they sit upside down. The phone sits a few inches away from their head, speakerphone enabled, and Jesse crosses their hands over their stomach and their ankles behind the back of the couch.

Undeterred, because of course, the message continues, “Please remain patient. Your time is very important to us. We will be with you momentarily.”

“Momentarily means for a short period,” Jesse corrects under their breath. It’s a small pet peeve, something that normally wouldn’t have drawn their attention either, but as they hear the same spiel for the dozenth time, it’s like getting the last final small pebble thrown in their face- just enough to burst the dam. "Not in a short period of time."

“We are currently experiencing greater than usual call volume. Continue to hold the line, and you will be connected as soon as possible.”

“How many people can there even be calling at 11am on a Tuesday?” Gravity draws Jesse’s blood into their head until the pressure and dizziness build uncomfortably. They roll off the couch and root around in their mini fridge for a drink. At this volume, they can hear the same three bar hold music repeat yet again, despite the distance. Cracking the seal on their iced tea, Jesse settles cross legged beside the cellphone. “Don’t whump on company time, guys, jeez.”

“Just a moment please, the next available team member will be there for you shortly.”

Letting out a drawn out groan, Jesse lies back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s been hours. “Starting to think I’m waiting for the next available team member to be born.”

Click. Jesse bolts upright, fumbling with the phone and nearly yeeting it across the room in their haste.

“All of our employees are currently busy assisting other clients,” the new voice announces. The faint static and electric tone warns Jesse that they’ve simply stumbled into another robot. “Your call and phone number has just been noted and a representative will call you back as soon as possible. We thank you for your understanding.”

“What?” That doesn’t make any sense. Jesse runs a hand through their curls, only to freeze as the line goes dead. “What?! No! I did not just sit through hours of happy fun time hold music just to get hung up on by a robot!”

Except that’s exactly what just happened.

They stare down at their screen in acute betrayal. What now? Try again? Their number is now in a whump call center database of some sort.

Half an hour after the call disconnected, Jesse still hasn’t moved from their position. Their mind is a blur as they try to figure out what it is they really ended up doing- if they would have to explain themself and the call to anyone- their family, friends, service provider, work. They don’t even know if anyone will know, let alone if they will care.

The house is absolutely silent, the muted television still playing in the background as they’d forgotten to turn it off or to return the volume.

Silent until the phone rings. Shock and no small amount of recklessness has Jesse answering the unknown number.

“Hello, and thank you for holding!” It’s the operator from before- Jesse recognizes the faint impediment or accent that sharpens the glottal sound of their h’s.

“I wouldn’t call that holding,” Jesse grumbles.

Either not hearing them, or not addressing their commentary, the operator continues, “At this time, I'd like to let you know that this call may be recorded for quality assurance and training purposes. Please answer the following survey questions.”

“I’ve been on hold for hours and you want me to perform a survey? About what? I haven’t even gotten helped!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, friend. Were you highly satisfied with your service experience?”

Bewildered, Jesse cries, “No!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did you receive the result you needed from your service interaction?”

“What interaction?!” Are they in the Twilight Zone? Are they still speaking English? Did they have a stroke and now they’re mumbling incoherently? What sort of madness was this, an elaborate prank?

“Thank you for your response. Did you receive friendly service?”

“I didn’t get any service! Rude would have been preferable!”

“Your feedback has been noted.”

Jesse groans again and scrubs their face.

“Was our service timely and convenient?”

“Not on your life!”

“Thank you for your responses. Now, would you recommend our service to others?”

They can feel their head pulsing and pounding, a twitch behind their temple and their eyebrow jumping, but as soon as they hang up, their blood pressure begins to lower with a rush of relief.

Their iced tea now room temperature and bitter, Jesse takes a few more sips and leans against the couch, resting their neck against the cushion. “What a disaster,” they sigh.

After a few seconds of blissful silence, their phone goes off again. Swiping the decline button with a vicious smirk, they return to enjoying what more of their day they can.

Said enjoyment ends with another call, and another.

“Fine! Hello?”

“I’m sorry, it seems we were disconnected. Please finish providing your feedback so we can improve our services.”

“My feedback is that this was an exercise is madness! You kept me on hold for over two hours, but you’ve repeatedly called me for a stupid survey when before you couldn’t give me the time of day!”

“I’ve very sorry you were not satisfied with the level of response and attentiveness. You are welcome to try calling again tomorrow-”

“Absolutely no-”

“As I was saying, Mx. Vance, you may call the hotline again tomorrow during regular business hours. Thank you for completing the survey and for calling 1-877-WHMP-NOW. Have a whumpderful day!”

“A pun?” Jesse tosses their phone to the couch and storms off to the bathroom to wash the rage and boiling heat from their face. “All that for a stupid pun?!”

Over at the call center, Gladys and Fran sit huddled around the phone, Gladys actually sitting on the desk and perched precariously on the edge. The speaker button still flashes from the abrupt disconnection.

“Did you hear them?” Gladys roars with laughter, holding her aching ribs. It took everything in her willpower and then some to keep quiet, both while listening to the detective while they were on hold, but especially while Fran spoke with them. Now free, she lets loose, uncaring of who else hears her. “Oh God, oh man, I’m gonna bust a rib. Babe, you’re the best.”

“I’m actually proud of that pun. Like, really proud.” Fran takes out their pen and quickly scribbles that one down.

“Uhhh, Fran, I’m pretty sure Craig in finance already-”

They raise up one finger imperiously and continue to write. “Let me have my moment, Glady-girl. Just this once.”

Smiling, she rolls her eyes and slides off the desk. “Since you gave me the best lunch break surprise ever, want to head down to the cafe?”

Fran takes a final quick look at their work space, how messy and disorganized it is now that it’s no longer Gladys’s chair, considers the amount of time left in their shift and how long this high of a well played prank might last, and wheels back from their desk. “Lead the way!”

“Oh, no, you’re my hero,” she insists, dramatically bowing to allow them to go ahead of her. The angle is perfect for a quick peck on the cheek before they make their way down the corridors.

#wcc series #wcc fran #wcc gladys #wcc detective jesse vance #alcohol mention #drug mention #anonymous #kissing cw

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