Just My Type(6)

I don’t even bother listening to a sample of this one. When I see how much money they’re offering for it, and that it will require multiple transcribing sessions for the project, each one making me a very good chunk of money I desperately need, I quickly click on the Accept Job button.

Glancing at the time on the top right corner of my laptop screen, I realize I still have a few more hours before I need to pick Lincoln up from school. Just enough time to knock out as much typing up of this first audio recording as I can. I settle back into the couch and secure my noise-cancelling headphones back onto my head as I open the company’s word processing software connected to my account.

There’s a lot of privacy involved with this company, which is one of the things that drew me to it. Other than being broke, desperate, and willing to take whatever job came my way before I started googling, How hard is it to become a hooker and make decent money without a John? Clients have no idea who I am, other than my site username, how many jobs I’ve completed since working for them, how long on average it takes me to complete a job, and my approval rating. Which I’m happy to say is a five out of five stars for every single job I’ve ever taken. The same goes for clients. Unless they specifically state who they are in the audio recording I’m sent, I have no idea who I’m transcribing for. I’ve done everything from board meetings for Fortune 500 companies, to authors who are writing a book and find it easier to talk their story out loud and then have someone else type it up, to PTA meetings.

As soon as I click on the audio recording and it starts playing in my ear, I immediately groan in annoyance. It takes less than fifteen seconds for me to realize this job is going to suck major asshole. It sounds like an interview, which means a lot of back and forth between just two people, and is usually a much easier job than say, ten different voices I have to differentiate between during a board meeting, but I can barely hear the guy talking, and the woman won’t stop giggling.

Think of the money. Think of being able to buy Lincoln a new toy the next time he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes.

I quickly hit Pause on the recording and take a deep breath.

I can do this. It’s fine.

It’s not the best audio in the history of the world, but it’s also not the worst.

Luckily, there’s another perk involved with working for this company, and that’s the super private, super top secret area of the software where I can take all the notes I want and the client never sees them. Little notations I can make to help me remember whose talking when the clients don’t give names, which is absolutely necessary when people are talking back and forth and I need to specify someone new is speaking in the document that is sent back to the client. It would be great if I could always type up that Bob and Sue are the subjects, but more often than not, I have to put things like, “Annoying Squeaky Voice” and “Mouth Breather.”

Rewinding the first few minutes of the audio, I listen to it again before hitting pause once more, so I can add my notes into my area of the software before I continue.

“Okay, Man Who Talks with Shit in His Mouth and Skanky Giggler, let’s see what you have to say,” I mutter out loud to myself.





CHAPTER 2





Shit Mouth


To: Ember Hastings

From: JMT Transcription Team

Subject: System Glitch/Security Breach

Dear Employees:

We have recently been made aware of a severe glitch that happened in our software system in the last twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, due to this glitch, several hundred JMT Transcription clients were emailed private, sensitive information from the backend of our site, including our employees’ email addresses, and a few cases where draft versions of transcription projects were accidentally marked as Complete, and sent out. Rest assured, we are doing everything possible to correct this mistake. We take the privacy of our employees and the work they do for us very seriously. If a client reaches out to you via email, do not respond. Please forward any emails you receive to [email protected].

Thank you,

JMT Transcription Team

“Can we name him Penis Breath?”

Lincoln’s giggle from the barstool pushed up to the kitchen counter makes me pull my head away from my phone and the email I got from work sometime in the middle of the night.

Setting my phone aside, I lean forward and rest my elbows on the counter across from my son. My little mini-me, literally, with the same blonde hair with natural caramel highlights, bright green eyes, and half the size of everyone else his age.

“No, we cannot name the dog we do not have—who I never even said yes to—Penis Breath,” I inform him as he brings his cereal bowl up to his mouth and slurps loudly while he finishes off the milk.

“What about Penis WeeWee? Sergeant Major Penis? Penis McDoggins?” he asks, barely getting all the words out before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

“Stop saying penis. It’s entirely too early on a Monday morning for that.”

“You said I could say penis,” he argues, his lips still twitching with the need to laugh.

“When we had a talk the other day about how it’s okay to say the word penis because it’s a body part, that didn’t mean you should use it in every sentence from now until the end of time,” I inform him, taking the empty bowl out of his hand and placing it into the sink. “Get your shoes on and brush your teeth. We’re running late this morning, so I’m going to have to drive you to school. We don’t have time to walk. Chop-chop!”