America 1982-Chapter 109 - 24: Respect is Not Condescension or Charity_2

Garry was startled by Tommy’s tone and didn’t recover his senses immediately, but a girl beside him, dissatisfied, spoke to Tommy,

"Hey, watch your tone, we..."

"Me, watch my tone? Me, watch my tone? It’s you fuckers who need to watch your tone!" Tommy cut the girl off, pointing at several telephones not far away, his expression fierce,

"What are you worrying about? What hypocrisy! Are you really the scammers preparing to deceive them? No! You’re clearly fucking supposed to save them! Yet why do you sound like you’re dragging them into a pit of fire?"

The girl’s head lowered under the intensity of Tommy’s gaze, but soon after, her companion mustered the courage to speak, explaining to Tommy,

"We just don’t want to hurt their self-esteem when communicating, so we’re thinking of more appropriate words to avoid..."

"They’ve already been tormented by the world to a point where there’s no such thing as self-esteem left in them. What they need isn’t politeness; it isn’t courtesy. They called because they want to find out if this world still has a fucking last bit of hope and opportunity that could change their fates! Only after knowing this will they give us the most precious thing they have left, which is the last bit of trust they have!" Tommy turned to look at the other person,

"Do you really understand equality? Understand respect? You don’t know shit! Your tone is the greatest disrespect to the woman on the other end of the phone! Three calls! Three calls! You wasted three chances! Those three women could’ve had the opportunity to change their fates, but because of your shitty tone, they will continue to sink further, and it’s your fault—fuck the equality advancement society, a bunch of foolish college students who are full after eating, a play-pretend organization that only knows how to shout slogans! I spent money to buy computers to help those women, not to help you people add a glimmering line to your resumes!"

"Tommy, calm down," Renee reminded Tommy in a low and nervous voice, because two girls had already been frightened to tears by Tommy’s harsh curse.

"Wipe your tears, listen carefully, let the country boy Tommy Hawk teach you spoiled rich girls how to deal with such scarred women, that is, to treat them as equals, not look down on them." Tommy bent down to light a cigarette, took a deep drag, and then walked up to the telephone,

"If I fail, feel free to complain about me, but if I succeed, you’d better fucking do as I say, or I’ll complain to the society that you’re just hypocritically trying to gild yourselves and don’t fucking want to save those poor women!"

Soon, the phone rang, and Tommy answered the call, his tone still carrying an undissipated anger, "Stanford University’s Women’s Equality Advancement Society Computer Training Classroom, this is Tommy Hawk."

"I saw a strange ad on ’Seeking Pleasure,’ free computer training? Is that some college kids’ April Fool’s joke, right?" the woman on the other end asked, "You should know no normal person would ever see an ad there, so are the people at Stanford crazy?"

Tommy Hawk took a drag on his cigarette, exhaling a puff of smoke into the receiver, "Listen, ma’am, you’re not the first one who’s doubtful. To deal with doubters like you, I’m already worn out, so allow me to smoke a cigarette to ease my mood and cut to the chase. I’m not going to ask your name, but I do need to ask you two other questions, and if your phone can record, you can start recording now."

"I’m listening," the woman said.

Tommy spoke directly, "How much do clients pay you for a transaction?"

The question sent shock waves through everyone present, causing them to wear expressions of horror.

"Fifty bucks," the woman paused for two seconds, then surprisingly answered Tommy’s question with self-mockery amidst the shock of the onlookers, "and a thirty-dollar coupon."

Tommy flicked his cigarette ash, "A coupon can be used for payment? That client sounds like an asshole, but I’m even worse, you know? I fucking moonlight here answering phones, barely making four bucks for dozens of calls an hour. But there’s an upside—I sit in an office, explaining stuff to skeptical ladies like you, without stripping for pesky clients or worrying about cops knocking on my door. Plus, I know computers, and after graduating, I can find a decent job at some big company. Don’t lose heart, lady, you can do it too. So, my next question is, do you know where Stanford University is?"

"Yes."

"Great, then let me repeat. We offer free computer training here, and post-training, we recommend jobs for free, all inside Stanford’s campus classrooms. You can come and verify for yourself. If it turns out this damn promotion society spent money on ads just to joke with women like you, go ahead and give a cop the tape recording—they’ll send me and the society folks where we belong. Then find a lawyer willing to make some cash, sue Stanford University, and claim a hefty compensation that’ll see you through the rest of your life. Don’t go easy—Stanford is rich." Tommy’s voice was crude, "And I guarantee there’ll be lawyers who won’t charge a consultation fee, ready to take that case just to split that big money with you."

Upon hearing Tommy’s words, the woman let out happy laughter, "You’re saying I can take classes, for free, right in Stanford’s classrooms? And if it’s not free or I’m fooled, I can sue Stanford? You’re pretty amusing, not many helpline folks are as interesting as you."

Renee blinked from a short distance away. The first time she met Tommy, she too had said he was funny, but back then, Tommy was definitely not like he was now... like a middle-aged drunk, having had a couple of drinks in a seedy bar.

"Yes, anyway, Stanford’s money isn’t mine. I’d be happy to see them in trouble. So, lady, come check out Stanford for yourself. I don’t have time to explain much; people are curious about anything free, and I’ve got to explain it dozens, hundreds of times a day. I bet if you had that many clients a day, you wouldn’t keep your cool either. Any more questions? I’m going to hang up now," Tommy said, sounding impatient to end the call.

The woman thought for a moment, "I don’t have a car. If I take the bus there, do you have someone at the school gate to receive me? I’ve heard the Stanford campus is huge."

"Of course, we’ve set up a reception at the school gate, but you’ll need to tell me your name so I can register you," Tommy said, picking up a pen from the desk.

Without hesitation, the woman said, "Susan Curtis."

"Okay, I’ve registered you, Miss Susan Curtis. See you tomorrow," Tommy tossed out a perfunctory goodbye and hung up the phone. He then lifted the paper with her name and approached the group of women:

"This name might be fake, and she may not come tomorrow, but at least she was willing to listen to me, at least she felt the urge to check it out. That’s why she inquired whether there was a reception at the gate. All your concerns only make them worry you’re going to con them out of their money. So, get this straight—the respect is not about looking down or charity; respect is simple, look them in the eyes, on an equal footing."