My Hidden Call Centre Life: The Unconventional Joy of My Secret Lie.
I’m 45 now, but my story began in my early twenties, fresh out of college, when call centres were booming in India. Most people saw it as a temporary gig, a stepping stone to something ‘better’, something more ‘respectable’ in a traditional office. Everyone around me yearned for promotions, for an escape from the headsets. But me? I fell in love with it. The anonymous connection, the power of my voice across miles, the quiet rhythm of it all – it gave me a strange sense of *sukoon*.
I shocked my family and colleagues by actively refusing promotions. Why climb a ladder I didn't want? I simply loved being on the phone. Then, in 2003, before WFH was even a concept for most, I heard whispers of remote work. I invested every rupee, bought the equipment, and meticulously built a tiny office inside the closet of my shared apartment. My boyfriend and roommates found it quirky, but for me, it was my sanctuary, my private world. Ten-hour shifts melted away in that dim, cozy space.
It was there, in my closet, that my little secret began. While connecting with customers and even colleagues, I’d sometimes weave tales, add a dash of flair to my day, perhaps craft a persona more whimsical than my quiet self. It wasn't for personal gain, not for a raise or recognition – I’d already turned those down. It was for the sheer thrill, a private performance that brought me immense, quiet joy. My colleagues, aware of my unconventional spirit, even gave me a playful, unofficial 'Most Audacious Storyteller' nod. It was a wink to my ability to find the ‘wild’ in the mundane, purely for the unadulterated fun of it. That secret lie, born of joy, became the silent companion of my fulfilling, unconventional life.
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