She was my relationship manager.
She helped me out with one of those god-knows-wtf-it-is documents. Or rather, she tried to help me.
I went to the office holding a rejected copy of the document I had submitted in good faith. She told me she would find out why it got rejected.
I went home. She called me around dinner-time. Sir, I am still trying to find out the reason, she said. Are you still working on it, I asked her. Go home, I told her. I am working from home, she said. I will work on it, she added. Good night, I said. Good night, she said.
I saved her number in my contacts list.
I was on the verge of sweet sorely-missed sleep when I got a call from her number at eleven that night. Hi, I said. Oh sorry, a man said. Who is this, I asked. Oh I accidentally hit my wife's phone and this call happened, he explained. Oh sorry, he said once again.
The next day, she called around noon. Sir, I am still working on it, she reminded me.
His call came at midnight that day. Oh, it is you, he accused.
The next day, he called. She didn't. He didn't even say Oh.
A few days later, she called to tell me that I had to resubmit the document again and that that might solve the problem. She admitted that she wasn't sure why it got rejected the first time. Will it get rejected again, I asked. She laughed. I too laughed.
I wasn't surprised when that too got rejected. I thought of telling him, Oh I got rejected once again. He calls regularly. But we are not on speaking terms.
