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movies."
    "I wish this was a movie."
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    MOSTLY, THOUGH, it was just sending out tow trucks for cars with dead batteries or empty gas tanks. During storms, the calls were back to back, all night long. I couldn't take a break until it slowed down, because the system automatically routed waiting calls to me. When I did get a break, I had to sign out of my computer. The router stopped sending me calls for exactly ten minutes, after which it started up again whether I was in my cubicle or not.
    Once, I came back to my cubicle late and found the phone ringing and my supervisor, Adam, sitting in my chair, feet up on the desk. His eyes were closed, and he was wearing a special headset that let him listen to anyone's call without them knowing. He was twenty-two but already going bald.
    "I don't know what you did before this," he told me, still not opening his eyes, "but you can't do it here."
    "I was only two minutes late," I said.
    "Every time you're late, you get docked an hour's pay. It's automatic."
    "That's not really fair," I said.
    He only opened his eyes when he got out of my chair and stretched. His back made cracking noises, and I could hear distant voices coming from his headset. "It has nothing to do with fair," he said. "It has to do with the system."
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    NONE OF THE CALLERS knew we could listen to them when we put them on hold. Sometimes I did it just to hear what they would say. Once I heard a man with a dead battery threaten his girlfriend. "When we get out of this," he said, "I am going to fuck you up so bad." I could hear her laugh in the background.
    "No," he said, "I mean it." But she kept on laughing.
    Another man, this one with a flat tire, seemed to be having sex with someone. As soon as I put him on hold he started moaning. "Mmm," he said, "God!"
    I came back on the line. "Everything all right?" I asked.
    "Everything except the car," he said, his voice back to normal.
    "Just checking," I said and put him on hold once more.
    "Don't stop," he groaned.
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    AND I HAD a regular caller, a man named Jude. The first time he called, he told me he'd run out of gas. The info on the computer said he was from Yellowknife. "How's the weather up there?" I asked him as I filled in the forms on the screen. Hope said to always keep people talking. If they were talking, they weren't wondering what you were doing.
    "Oh, it's not so bad," Jude said. "No worse than usual, anyway."
    I looked up at the television mounted in one corner of the office. It was always tuned to one of the weather channels, and right now it was showing the entire state covered in a snowstorm.
    "How long do you think it'll take to get someone out here?" he asked.
    "Depends on how many other people are broken down," I said.
    "Because I need to find my girlfriend," he said.
    "Maybe you should call her and let her know you're going to be late," I said.
    "No, no," he said, "I have to find her. She hasn't been home in two days, and I really don't know where she is."
    "Well, that's not really our business," I said.
    "I don't know what to do," he went on. "She's usually only gone the night."
    "Have you tried calling the police?" I asked.
    "The police." He laughed. "What are they going to do?"
    I finished the forms and asked him where to send the driver with the gas. He gave me the address, and I paused as I looked at the screen.
    "Isn't that your home address?" I asked.
    "That's right," he said.
    "You ran out of gas at home?" I asked.
    "Well, technically it happened down the street a bit," he said, "but I managed to get her back in the driveway before she really gave out on me."
    "Is there anything else I can help you with?" I asked.
    "I don't know," he said. There was a silence, like he was waiting for me to say something.
    "Well, good luck with this girlfriend thing," I said.
    "It's not luck I need," he said.
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    HOPE SAT IN THE cubicle next to mine. Every shift she received an obscene call. "It's always the same guy," she told me one night while we were