A Short Call from Newcastle

Dear Delyara, I spent twenty minutes on hold with my energy provider tonight, sitting on the kitchen floor listening to that tinny electronic hold music, simply because I needed to hear a real human voice address me by my name. When the operator finally picked up, a tired-sounding woman from Newcastle, I asked some completely unnecessary question about my bill just to keep her on the line. Her polite, professional tone felt like water in a desert. When she said, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Ali?" my throat went entirely tight. I am surrounded by family names and old ties, yet I am so desperately starved for basic, uncomplicated recognition.