Who’s Cutting Onions?
This is the story about the most emotional call I’ve ever taken. Essentially, one of the jobs I have is programming calling features. This call in particular happened about a month ago. A ticket had come to my queue about a customer having trouble accessing her voicemails. I dug deeper and found it was full as well.
No problem, there were some programming errors, which I fixed, and I then called the customer who will be known as Sweet Elderly Woman (SEW).
SEW: Hello?
Me: So, I am calling because you reported an issue with your voicemail today.
SEW: Oh yes! Is it fixed?
Me: Yes! It should be. But I found that your box is full. It has the maximum amount of messages in it.
SEW: Dear, I’d hate to be a bother, but could I get you to go in and delete them for me? (We have a way of accessing the messages if the customer cannot, doesn’t want to, etc).
Me: Absolutely. I will gladly do this for you. I’ll call you back when I’m finished?
SEW: Yes please!
She thanks me and I hang up to go access the messages. Knowing full well that this is going to take at least 15 minutes, I go and read Wikipedia articles as the messages are playing. I eventually reach the last message—but the recording catches my attention. I stopped reading, listened to it, began tearing up and saved it in her box. I compose myself before calling back.
SEW: Hello?
Me: Hi! It’s me again. I listened to all the messages and deleted them all except for one.
SEW: Oh thank you, sweetheart! Why did you leave one?
Me: Well, I think you should listen to it. I will hang up to give you some time, okay?
SEW: Okay, dear.
I gave her time to listen to the message and called her back. She was crying when I called her back. It was then I learned the story. The message was from her husband who had passed due to brain cancer three days after he left the message. It was him saying goodbye and that he loves her so much and he’s “never felt more alive” than all the years she spent with him.
She was crying because he was deceased by the time she got to the hospital and she had not heard his voice. She said I gave her part of herself back that she’d lost when he passed. She thanked me and we disconnected the call.