I spent six months posing as a medium on a phone hotline, charging people by the minute for insights into their love lives. I'd been struggling to find purpose after quitting my job as an editor and writer due to writer's block and a desire to start a family.
After applying to work from home, claiming a "rigorous" application process was required, I found myself performing my first psychic interview with a man who asked if I had fast wifi. The contract was signed without any trial calls or verification of skill. I bought the tarot cards at age 12 and had no actual experience.
The first call lasted less than a minute and involved a man talking about his job dissatisfaction. He apologized for calling but didn't seem interested in my psychic insights, so he hung up before I could finish speaking. It was clear that the industry was geared towards providing cheap emotional support rather than genuine supernatural guidance.
As time went on, more people called, many of whom were just seeking someone to talk to. The pay was minimal – 20p a minute or £1.50 for every hour worked if you didn't hang up early – and the "for entertainment purposes only" disclaimer was in place from day one. I did manage to build rapport with my clients, though.
A woman called multiple times each week to discuss her struggles in relationships. She seemed desperate for connection but was also afraid of getting too close due to past heartbreaks. Another caller spent hours talking about their home renovation plans and how a psychic would be able to advise on the perfect wallpaper design. It became clear that people just needed someone to listen.
The most common questions were "Is my ex thinking about me?" or "Is my boyfriend cheating?" Most callers knew the answers already but just wanted someone to validate their feelings.
At first, I didn't feel guilty about posing as a psychic; in fact, it was therapeutic for both of us. However, as more and more clients called seeking advice on serious issues like anxiety, depression, or suicidal thoughts, my guilt began to grow. It became clear that not all callers were looking for supernatural guidance.
As the weeks went by, I started feeling an emotional resonance with these people. It was intense, almost telepathic. My responses often felt overly empathetic and encouraging, which put me in a difficult spot since I wasn't actually providing any magical insight.
One call stood out – a woman who'd recently tried for years to get pregnant called from her car, anxious about whether she would conceive that month. Her voice was calm but urgent, and my response only reassured her of hope rather than concrete results. We chatted briefly after the call, and I felt an unsettling sense of connection.
A few months into the job, I decided it was time to quit. It wasn't the supernatural aspect that convinced me; it was feeling too deeply invested in these people's lives. Before I left, I waited for a client to call again so I could bid her farewell. She'd moved away and had a new boyfriend, and we chatted about nothing but made an effort to say goodbye.
Looking back on the experience, I can see that I was providing a unique service – emotional validation without supernatural backing. It wasn't a con; it just required me to be empathetic and genuine.
After applying to work from home, claiming a "rigorous" application process was required, I found myself performing my first psychic interview with a man who asked if I had fast wifi. The contract was signed without any trial calls or verification of skill. I bought the tarot cards at age 12 and had no actual experience.
The first call lasted less than a minute and involved a man talking about his job dissatisfaction. He apologized for calling but didn't seem interested in my psychic insights, so he hung up before I could finish speaking. It was clear that the industry was geared towards providing cheap emotional support rather than genuine supernatural guidance.
As time went on, more people called, many of whom were just seeking someone to talk to. The pay was minimal – 20p a minute or £1.50 for every hour worked if you didn't hang up early – and the "for entertainment purposes only" disclaimer was in place from day one. I did manage to build rapport with my clients, though.
A woman called multiple times each week to discuss her struggles in relationships. She seemed desperate for connection but was also afraid of getting too close due to past heartbreaks. Another caller spent hours talking about their home renovation plans and how a psychic would be able to advise on the perfect wallpaper design. It became clear that people just needed someone to listen.
The most common questions were "Is my ex thinking about me?" or "Is my boyfriend cheating?" Most callers knew the answers already but just wanted someone to validate their feelings.
At first, I didn't feel guilty about posing as a psychic; in fact, it was therapeutic for both of us. However, as more and more clients called seeking advice on serious issues like anxiety, depression, or suicidal thoughts, my guilt began to grow. It became clear that not all callers were looking for supernatural guidance.
As the weeks went by, I started feeling an emotional resonance with these people. It was intense, almost telepathic. My responses often felt overly empathetic and encouraging, which put me in a difficult spot since I wasn't actually providing any magical insight.
One call stood out – a woman who'd recently tried for years to get pregnant called from her car, anxious about whether she would conceive that month. Her voice was calm but urgent, and my response only reassured her of hope rather than concrete results. We chatted briefly after the call, and I felt an unsettling sense of connection.
A few months into the job, I decided it was time to quit. It wasn't the supernatural aspect that convinced me; it was feeling too deeply invested in these people's lives. Before I left, I waited for a client to call again so I could bid her farewell. She'd moved away and had a new boyfriend, and we chatted about nothing but made an effort to say goodbye.
Looking back on the experience, I can see that I was providing a unique service – emotional validation without supernatural backing. It wasn't a con; it just required me to be empathetic and genuine.