Wednesday, January 25

Obligatory work-based rant

I have a confession. I work in a call center.

I am not a telemarketer, but if you were to speak to me in my official capacity, I often have not-so-good news to give you. I have been cussed at and had my heritage denigrated, but the worst is folks--women and men, but men are somehow more heartbreaking--crying. Fortunately, the crying does not occur too often, leaving me free to focus on the following aggravating things that occur on a daily basis:

The first real person you speak to is your portal and guide for the rest of your call. Pissing me off with your first statement ain't the best tactic.

The phrase "you people" is truly one of the most obnoxious things a person can say.

". . . Uh. . . ." is not the answer when asked your account number, name, or social security number.

I have no control over the phone system. I don't know why I have to ask you all the same questions again, and yes, I agree it is pretty stupid.

I have no control over the phone system and no, I don't know the name of the Muzak-ed song you were just listening to.

I have no control over the phone system, and starting our call with a rant about how this is America and why the !@#$ is there a Spanish option when we should all speak Amurican will not endear you to me.

I have no control over the phone system, and no, I do not know why you ended up with me when you specifically entered the Spanish language option.

I have can see how long you have been waiting, and no sir, you have not been on hold 25 minutes.

I can see your payment history, and no, ma'am, this is not "The first time in 20 years" you have ever been late.

The first pen you pick up will not work. Be prepared for that, and realize that I have heard at least ten people today comment on how funny that is.

When asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you," the answer "Pay all my bills," is cute only to you.

And what is UP with people who read strings of numbers this way:
"Ten, twenty-three, one, one, three zeros, five" for 1023110005? Just read the damn number, a digit at a time, please. One, zero, two, three, one, one, zero, zero, zero, five. . . . How hard is that?

Even more difficult to understand are people who state dates like this: The "sixth of the seventh" translates to July 6th. I have had conversations that go much like this one:

"I paid the first time the sixth of the seventh, but my second payment was on the third of the eighth then I didn't pay again until the eleventh of the tenth." What.the.fuck. Someone tell me, is this just a Southern thing?

I am sure there are many more irritations I can tell y'all about which I am currently blocking, but I am off to work, perhaps I will update this tonight.

<< Home

©2005 TC Byrd - All Rights Reserved

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?