Tones of Outdated Enlightenment

Tony was struck with a particular realization as he listened to the woman on the phone. Fascinated by the idea of interrupting the telemarketer to reveal a key part of his life that he had just now, during this conversation, come to the understanding of, he spoke up.

"Excuse me miss?" And then louder as she had failed to hear him, "Miss?"

She stuttered to a stop, obviously thrown off by the existence of someone on the other end of the line. And then after a terse silence she said, "Um yes?"

Tony savored the tone of these words; it was the conventional response he had provoked on purpose. It proved that she was human and not just a machine for selling... what was she selling? He had missed that part. The tone suggested she expected something of him. And not just a random something. She expected that he would dismiss her now; make some lame excuse about not being interested or being too busy or something and cut the connection. He held the silence just long enough and:

"Sir?"

There it was. The delicate tinge of fear; professionally masked, true - but definitely there. She was worried. Worried that he was angry or at least, indignant. Part of her expected he would now rail at her for interrupting his dinner; for being that most loathsome and pathetic creature: the telemarketer; for causing all the world's problems. Or whatever. Tony almost changed his course to give her what she desired, but his desires won out. So instead he asked, "Can you ask your advice on something?"

"Um..." she replied, obviously startled. Like dear in headlights, telemarketers thrown off their spiel will stare wordlessly over space, over telephone lines at the virtual headlights of the unexpected response. Often they fall back into their well rehearsed lines, but Tony wasn't going to give her the chance.

"You see, I've just realized that those things I like to do, I no longer want to do," he said being careful to punctuate. This was important after all. "And those things I want to do, I no longer like to do. So I'm not really sure what to do."

There was silence on the other end of the line - he found that he could not read it. Tony played the words over once in his head to make sure they were correct. Yep, that was his current state of affairs. The Lord's own truth, as his mother would call it.

He was slightly unnerved to realize how eagerly he awaited her response; that he was unable to even continue until she replied; unable to really breathe. It was like she had unwittingly become the Oracle of Delphi, and her silence was that of the gods weighing his worthiness. This stranger on the other end of the line - the woman who's prefabricated and poorly delivered speech had triggered some neuron in his brain, who's words had unknowingly caused in him the realization that he no longer understood his own motivations, and therefore no longer knew himself - would she provide answers as well as questions? Did he even stand a chance of getting her number?

He chuckled as these thoughts wandered through his mind and then vaguely realized that he had missed something. Some small detail had gone astray in the last few minutes. Some opportunity missed. A voice called to him.

"Sir, are you still there?" a man's voice came from the receiver; an overly cheerful and only barely out of puberty voice that sounded to Tony like the fall of Troy. He made a half-choked noise which was apparently the cue for the voice to speak again from his demon-possessed phone. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, but Caroline has gone off duty for the evening. Now, did you decided which magazine you were going to sign up for? Remember if you sign up for five subscriptions you will receive a free gift!"