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<p><strong>Author's note: </strong>This story was published on <a href="https://steemit.com/spanish/@vickaboleyn/relato-el-mensaje">Spanish language</a> in June 9th, 2019.</p>
<h2>.-.-.-.</h2>
<p>11 A.M. Any Sunday, with the same problems, with the same people, with the same words. Everyone seeks to advise you, to give you employment options, to invite you to give up &nbsp;your pretensions in order to give way to those who, according to them, &nbsp;will provide you a "worthy" and "comfortable" life.</p>
<p>However, I do not want to give up anything, not even to please the one who extends that invitation to me. With the best face I gave them the thanks for their advice at the same time I turn a deaf ear.</p>
<p>It's not that I don't care &nbsp;about my friends; on the contrary, I love them as if they were my siblings. When and how can I, &nbsp;I give them a hand. It's just that I got fed up of being ceding my dreams over work stability; I just don't &nbsp;want to sacrifice my dreams for money, for comfortable living. I want to fight for them, be myself without the constant fear of being criticized by everyone at the time of expressing an opinion contrary to their ideas.</p>
<p>With that somewhat obtuse attitude, I focus on developing my small business of book dividers and tote bags; I know that all that take time, but if I want to get a decent income I have to work harder. Of course, I always have the idea in my head that money is not life, but the means; otherwise, what would be the point of living life if you spend it going for an inanimate object?</p>
<p>A sound interrupts my thoughts. My phone rings insistently; an unknown number is reflected on the screen.</p>
<p>I snorted while I put my phone on silence. &nbsp;I can honestly say that I am tempted to answer the call and tell the collection manager that my cousin does not live with us and ask to stop being harassed by a debt that is not mine. But that would be useless, at least for me. It is understandable; it's their job.&nbsp;</p>
<p>The phone rings again and again. In the end, I silenced once and for all the device and put it in my bag. I will let them call as many times as they want; I'm not going to take the call or tolerate their rudeness.</p>
<p>After hours, I checked the mobile. I have 50 calls and a message, all from the unknown number. However, the message did not say anything about debts.</p>
<p><em>You have the job, </em>it said<em>.</em></p>
<p>I was shocked.</p>
<p>I had forgotten to cancel that announcement in which, desperate, externalized my urge to work. Of course, messages came to me offering me unbelievable amounts of money; There was even a supposed woman trying to convince me to go with her to her workplace where they would train me the same day, an offer I rejected because, well, the "job" that the woman insisted so much on enrolling me was not another one that women trafficking.</p>
<p>But that was not what left me surprised that Sunday.</p>
<p>What left me with a "Jesus" in my mouth and with much doubt was how they got my phone number. I never leave my phone number as a contact form. How, when, where did they get it? Are they traffickers of women who, with the help of hackers, easily get the information of anyone at the least a jiffy?</p>
<p>There was only one way to find out: returning the call.</p></div>
<center><p><img src="https://images.pexels.com/photos/35886/phone-communication-call-select.jpg?auto=compress&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;dpr=1&amp;w=500" width="500" height="309"/></p>
<p><a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/antique-communication-phone-museum-35886/"><strong>Image's source</strong></a></p>
<p><img src="https://steemitimages.com/640x0/https://66.media.tumblr.com/21038fa694e9518ce0c91d76108d2369/tumblr_pp219yK9pC1r5rk8no1_500.png" width="458" height="79"/></p>
<p><img src="https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmf79LdsoXQ1c413qGHidRcQ6YZGEkqhFyh1H7sB5JDs8K/01-vickaboleyn3.gif" width="800" height="115"/></p>
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