by LAURIE NEIDERGAARDEN, Alternate Reality News Service Medical Writer
Ruby Dhaliwhally was having a pleasant argument with her husband about whether they should find a mate for their daughter, Molybdenum, using an online matchmaker or a less traditional method, when he started making strange noises.
“I will not have our little Molly -” Walter Dhaliwhally had started to say when he got a glazed look in his eye. After a couple of moments of silence, he continued: “Well, howdy, pardner, I – phfft! – yo, dis ain’t no friggin’ crapper – phfft! – don’t be tellin’ me, boyo, cause I know better’n da – phfft! – oh, I say, this is a bit of a sticky wicket, eh, what?”
Walter Dhaliwhally, who works at the Nehru Formalwear Alterations and Call Centre in Pather-Panchali, India, was quickly diagnosed with what some doctors are calling Personality Implant Derived Dislocation. (Other, more traditional doctors are calling it Implant Derived Personality Dislocation. While IDPD isn’t as pleasing an acronym as PIDD, it may actually describe the condition better. The medical community hasn’t seen this much controversy since the 1953 Polio or Polka? conference in which Jonas Salk got wasted and demanded that Thomas Francis, Jr. give him a lap dance.)
A long-standing problem with call centres based in India was that callers from foreign countries would often become alienated by dealing with people so far away from them. A typical call went something like:
OPERATOR: And, how may I be of assistance to you on this day, sahib?
CALLER: My fuckin’ computer’s done broke.
OPERATOR: Please to be more specific?
CALLER: It doesn’t fuckin’ work!
OPERATOR: Telling me, please, what exactly doesn’t fucking work…?
CALLER: When I turned it on, it started making a strange whinin’ noise – sort of like a Nine Inch Nails song played on a blender – and, then – hey! Where…are you?
OPERATOR: Me? I am being in…Texas?
CALLER: You don’t sound like yer from Texas.
OPERATOR: I am…having a cold, please. Now, how –
CALLER: What’s the weather like where yer at?
OPERATOR: The weather?
CALLER: Yeah.
OPERATOR: It…umm…one moment, please, sahib – I am going to look out my window and…I am seeing that it is…cloudy with a 20 per cent chance of thundershowers before midnight. Now, if you will just please to be –
CALLER: No, ta’int! It’s overcast with a 40 per cent chance o’ thundershowers by nine. Where you really at?
OPERATOR: T-T-Texas! Really, I assure you I am being in Tex –
CALLER: Aww, shit! That’s what I get for buyin’ my damn computer at Ron’s Bait, Tackle and Switch Shop!
Personality implant chips seemed to be the answer to this form of customer dissatisfaction. If an Indian operator had to handle calls from Texas, she could simply pop the appropriate chip up her nose and speak fluent redneck. If the operator was taking calls from Canada the next day, she could replace it with a chip that gave her a flat monotone voice with a mild Scottish accent and a hatred of Toronto. And, so on.
“The problem,” stated Testy Tastosteron, oncological clinician at The World’s Best Fictional Teaching HospitalTM, “is that the human mind can only really handle one personality. Unless it is the mind of a politician, in which case, it can handle two personalities. Oh, and advertising account executives can handle up to seven personalities, but, uhh, they are highly unusual. Then, there are circus clowns. I hate to think of how many personalities they can handle – let’s just say that there is a reason circus clowns scare small children!”
The average human being can use a different personality implant every two weeks without long-term damage to their psyche. However, almost daily implant changes take place much more often than every two weeks. This can lead to a breaking down of the person’s original identity, which is then filled with a kaleidoscope of personalities from the chips the person has used.
PIDD.
Or, maybe IDPD. Experts are divided on the question.
Junker Barbaghett, owner of the Nehru Formalwear Alterations and Call Centre, insists that there is no problem. “My workers, they are very happy, yes? They – phfft! – would…would…would never, you know, complain or…or…or – phfft! – You know, I ‘ave ‘ad de – ‘ow you say? – implante de personalite in ma own head many time, and – phfft! – You vould neffer know it! Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, nein! Neffer!”
The Indian government is considering legislation that would limit the use of personality implants in call centre employees to no more than one every two weeks. Ironically, Indian members of Parliament are being lobbied on the issue from a call centre in Austin, Texas.