My Sister Was a Phone Sex Operator

phone sex operator

I was sitting at lunch today thinking about the many stories I have put into my books and if there was anything I had missed. Somehow, and I don’t know how it happened, I missed the story of my sister being a phone sex operator.

I have 2 sisters. Normal sister and hot mess sister. Normal sister is one of my best friends and we do a lot of stuff together like ice skating: Enraged With My Sister. Ahem. Anyway, willing to look over that little train wreck.

Then there’s hot mess sister. Hot mess sister…God…well, I’m having a tough time trying to describe her. Growing up with her was like growing up with Chris Farley. I was the boring, straight laced one that would have a sleepover. I would be asleep by 10 PM while my friend and sister would be piercing their belly buttons at midnight. She was the outwardly funny one and God she made me laugh.

I’ve always had a sense of humor but it was a quiet one. I would observe events while putting together entire scenarios in my head of what I would say to a person or situation in a comedic fashion. I was always pegged as the quiet one however once I felt EXTREMELY comfortable with someone, my personality would explode. I had to make sure they weren’t going to be offended by what I was saying.

It really came to no surprise that hot mess sister took up employment at College Co-eds in the Summer of 2002.

“Yup, that’s about right,” I said indifferently.

“So what is your name?” I asked her as if I just asked her what her username is for Amazon. All operators had names and I needed to know hers.

“Peaches N Cream,” she said.

“What?”

“Pee-chezzz,” she couldn’t even get the words out, she was laughing so hard. “N Cream!”

“Oh my God,” I said, more shocked about the name then the profession. Had to hand it to her, pretty unique. She has always loved peaches so I guess it was perfect?

She proceeded to explain that the house that houses the operators is like a fortress with a high gate as well as cameras everywhere. The description became shadier by the minute. She explained that you work on commission and if you get the guys to sign up for more minutes, BAM, extra money.

“And I have regulars too,” she said proudly.

“G, your not a hooker.” I said.

“I know, I know, but they pay the most. You know what’s funny? It’s like that Aerosmith video with the fat lady ironing with a baby on her hip as she’s talking dirty to a guy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because we’re all playin’ solitaire or games while occasionally yellin’ into the phone c’mon baby, faster, faster.”

I put my hands up to signal we were done with this conversation.

“No more, I’m done. Don’t tell me anymore.”

G being G, she knew she had me flustered and wasn’t going to stop.

“One of my co-workers has this guy who calls all the time wanting you to pretend you are shitting…”

“No! That’s enough. I’m done!” I said as I covered my ears and began to belt out “la,la,la,la,la,la.”

Her illustrious career as a phone sex operator continued for about another year. I can’t remember what happened and why she quit. Maybe she got fired? Actually yes, I think that’s what happened. How does one get fired from being a phone sex operator?

 

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