It’s Either This Or The Call Centre ~ fiction by Alison Wassell


She stares across the desk at me in a way that makes me feel naked. I button my cardigan right up to the top.

“Look,” she says, “It’s either this or the call centre. You’ll be sanctioned if you turn down a job that’s offered to you.” I shiver, despite the buttoned-up cardi. I worked in a call centre once and lasted three days before they let me go. They said I had no people skills, and I couldn’t argue. I’ve always preferred cats. You know where you are with them.

“It’s the hours, mainly. I’m normally tucked up with a Maeve Binchy by ten.” She looks like more of a Stephen King fan. She taps her biro on the desk, waiting for me to expand on my unsuitability for the position.

“Don’t you need to be a reanimated corpse for that kind of work? I’m under-qualified, not even dead yet.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her laugh. She throws her head back and opens her mouth wide. I’d get those pointy canines seen to if I were her.

“Barbara,” she says, “I think you’ll find you’ve been dead inside for some time now.” I don’t let my face show it, but she’s right. I’ve stopped feeling things, since my Robert went. No pleasure, no pain, just a numbness that never goes away. She leans forward, lowering her voice.

“Between you and me, they’ve waived some of the requirements. It’s listed as a shortage occupation. Just say the word and you’re in.”

“I can’t stand the taste of blood,” I say. She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t believe all you read. Blood’s only part of it. You’ll be feeding on other things too. Self-esteem, hope, the will to live. It won’t be anywhere near as bad as you think.” She reaches out and puts her hand over mine.

“Trust me,” she says, and I do, because it feels as though I have no other choice. I undo my top button.

When her teeth sink into my neck it’s no worse than a needle in your gum at the dentist. She dabs her lips with a tissue.

“Welcome to the team” she says, as she shows me to my desk.


Alison Wassell is a short story, flash, and micro-fiction writer from Merseyside, UK. Her work has been published by Bath Flash Fiction Award, Roi Faineant, The Phare, Litro, Ellipsis Zine, Reflex Fiction, Retreat West and Funny Pearls.

Show Alison some love via PayPal at                       alisonwassell225(at)btinternet(dot)com.