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Finally a ticket out of Hell - Happy happy happy.
After two years, two months and two days of working in the job from Hell, I now have a ticket out of thhere in the form of a new job! I am ecstatic. Words fail me... Ok words never fail me - for I am a writer. If I have an issue with anything it will come out in writing and then I will feel unburdened and therefore better.
For fear of getting myself into trouble I won't mention the name of the company where the job from Hell was/is but it was in a call centre, of which there are probably thousands in the UK, dealing with calls from members of the public (98% of which are complaints - the remainder are prank calls or wrong numbers). The job is not to deal with big important mind-blowingly terrible complaints but the smaller piddly insignificant (on the scale of life) high volume complaints the importance of which were/are lower than a worm's arse. I cannot be specific but really the way some of them scream you'd assume their very basic human rights had been compromised not that their delivery was three minutes late.
Big complaints I can handle no problem - I can empathise if something has gone terribly wrong. I can listen while people scream at me. I can and will apologise if it is necessary and then I will do my utmost to fix it.
It is the niggly whinges which are driving me slowly but surely, call by call, sixty times a night, five nights a week TOTALLY AND UTTERLY BARKING BLOODY MAD. These teeny weeny complaints - like their delivery is 3 (yes three) minutes late. Or the delivery box is ever so slightly dented or the driver was whistling the wrong tune or the delivery note got wet. Had the driver driven over the cat then perhaps I could understand it. Not only do they complain but they scream abuse and are utterly unrealistic when they do so. These lowlifes (and it is not the majority of customers it is about one in twenty on the extreme side of complaining) are the type of people who you would cross the street to avoid. If you met one face to face you would want to punch them right in their smarmy chops or scream abuse right back at them or slam the door in their face or push them off a cliff.
Before I worked in a call centre I was a happy and cheerful kind of girl who had never had a confrontation with another human being. To suddenly be confronted with dozens of these was a shock. I am plugged into my phone and so forced to listen to them and take their abuse on a daily basis. I am told it isn't personal. However sometimes, it clearly is. I have had many nights where I simply cannot get the call out of my head even at 4am some nights I lie in bed with the call replaying itself over and over in my head. My brain tells me I should not have allowed myself to be spoken to like that. I know I am worth so much more than allowing myself to be spoken to in that way by some person (I use the term 'person' loosely) whom I've never met.
One problem is these peasants have access to telephones ~ which is a problem. If it they were to speak to anyone face to face the way they speak to a voice on the phone then the police would probably have to be called. Aggressive, unreasonable, rude, ignorant, often stupid, uneducated and blatantly with little or no anger management ability. As they have access to telephones they are able to pick up and make a call while they are at the height of their anger. Half the time they do not even have their facts straight - had they just had a cup of tea or walked up and down the street, stroked the cat or just waited a moment before they picked up the phone then our job would be a whole lot more pleasant.
Us poor call takers not only have to remain polite to these demon customers from Hell but we have to let them scream vile abuse at us. They scream over us 'LET ME FINISH' and then they scream further at us that we are there to listen to them and so we'd better bloody well listen. We are not allowed to hang up - this is grounds for an official warning. They can scream, shout, insult our intelligence and parentage, tell us to shut up while they 'speak' then tell us what amoebas we must be to be working in a call centre and we should listen to them as they are a customer. They tell us they are more important than us because they have a proper job and are therefore far too important to actually go to a shop themselves to pick up the item and this, they tell us, is why they have it delivered. Eventually, having refused to let us get a word in edgeways and given us loud and large abuse for ten minutes, they tell us they want to speak to a manager because clearly we are far too stupid to understand what they want and they are far too important to speak to us idiot minions. While it is a part of our job to deal with the call, and we are all perfectly capable of doing so, at this point we will have to get a manager because the customer has demanded one, who will then take over the call and inevitably tell them EXACTLY THE SAME thing we would have done had they let us speak. While we put the peasant on hold to get the manager he/she/it has had the chance to calm down and when the manager picks up the phone the peasant has inevitably changed from the evil demon customer from hell to a semi-normal person - this is because he/she/it has had a minute on hold to contemplate how totally unreasonable he/she/it has been. Those 'Listen to me Darlin' if I don't get what I want NOW, I will expect compensation/call the papers/shop elsewhere/tell my mate Terry who works in the newspaper/write to the CEO/throw all my toys out of the pram' calls are wearing thin. You speak to me as if I am an amoeba's underpants and then you expect me to help you. Here's a hint - TRY BEING NICE! - ever considered that as an option? It may just be that if I WANT to help you and if I ENJOY our conversation then both of us will feel that little bit better at the end and YOU may just get what you wanted and possibly a little bit more.
This constant peck peck peck day after day, night after night and hour after hour is giving me an ulcer and my subdued axe murderer tendencies are rising to the surface. I must get out and soon - the right way not the leap out the top floor window way. I suspect if it had not have been one it would have been the other. I have a new job so I am OUT.
I will not miss those conversations which should not happen either, like when you have to speak to those who have never even heard of the phonetic alphabet and you waste your call stats figures something CHRONIC on those.
'OK Mrs customer so you say your post code starts with B for bravo?'
Silence 'No EEEEE' (fuzzy line and said at some volume).
'Is that E for Echo?'
'No'
'could you tell me whet 'EEEE' stands for Mrs customer?'
'EEEEEEEEEE'
Sigh! 'Is that B for BIKE, C for cat, D for dog, E for egg, P for pig, G for golf, T for tree or V for victor Mrs customer?'
'No EEEEEE'
'OK I am sorry it is a very bad line - can you tell me what EEEEE stands for'
'EEEEEEEE'
Finally THIRTEEN minutes later when you have lost the will to live and your stats have put you six feet under, the customer will say...
'EEEEEEE for Zeeeebra'.
You couldn't make it up!
To anyone who ever needs to call a call centre - remember KARMA!
Thank You. and goodbye.
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