I'm still waiting.

The woman. Asking me questions. In a political opinion survey. Didn’t know who sanctioned the poll. Prompting me to ask to talk to her supervisor. She had no supervisor. Only a manager, she declared. That’s significant. She was being managed. Not supervised. Told her I wouldn’t have taken the job. Under those circumstances. I’d want to know more. About who was running the show. And how this information would be used. Doesn’t matter, she said. I suggested that she was a robot. Performing a function. Automatically. Without any forethought. Without curiosity.  She objected to being called a robot. To prove it, she announced that she had five children. I wondered. If that was proof enough. That I knew plenty of robotic mothers.  Anyway, she went to fetch her manager. To no avail. He was busy. Could I stay online for a little while? Instead. I gave her my name and phone number. Have him call at his convenience. A week later, I’m still waiting. –Jim Broede