Master of the Custodial Arts

For some reason this guy thinks he’s cool because he’s a janitor.

You know your job is a piece of shit when people fight over custodial duties. No, I’m not joking, gentle reader. As always, your pal Winston tells the truth and nothing but the truth. Allow me to elaborate.

Because Telescreen is so fucking cheap, they don’t pay for enough maintenance crews around our building. Mind you, the call center is fucking huge, with over a thousand people working there, but apparently Big Brother wants to buy some more weekend hookers, so we’re stuck with the few illegal immigrants we have. Then who’s going to pick up the slack? I guess the dipshit management will just have to utilize the workers they already have to fill in on cleaning duties.  Well, let me be specific, they can only use the workers that are experiencing some downtime, which is pretty much never. Hence why the competition to join the cleanup crew is so fierce. Who wouldn’t want a nice break from a continuous onslaught of stupidity?

I found out about this “perk” by going outside one day during training, even before I started in Super Department. I walked outside with some of my coworkers and headed over to the smoking area. This is by far the most popular place in the building, next to the cafeteria which serves a plethora of fried food. This should give  you an idea of the work environment I’m dealing with.

We saw one of the veteran Super Department agents outside with a broom and dustpan, cleaning up cigarette buts. I knew from prior experience that this guy happened to be a douchebag, so I took the opportunity to ridicule him. “Hey man, congrats, I see you’re now a master of the custodial arts. I knew you could do it.” “Hey, fuck you man,” he unsurprisingly replied, “This is way better than being on the phones.”

In that moment, Douchebag Coworker was right, cleaning up cigarette butts is better than talking to extremely stupid fucking idiots. I was determined to make a career change…or just volunteer the next time “cleanup duty” was offered.

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Winston Gets A Raise

I didn’t see it coming. It was a day like any other day, filled with useless fucking morons, clueless rednecks, and yelling bitches. Then a friendly message from my boss pops up on the screen, “Yearly review after your call.” Um, okay. I end the call by telling the genius that because the bill reads […]

Happy Birthday ESP!

Hello again, gentle reader! It sure has been awhile since we’ve last talked. I have to admit, the future of ESP was looking grim. This recent hiatus is due to my debates over the future of this blog. With such low readership, it didn’t seem like all the effort was worthwhile. I think some of […]

The Hot Dog Eating Contest

Some companies support a healthy lifestyle by promoting outdoor activities or a discount for a fitness club membership. It’s no surprise that Telescreen doesn’t support a fucking thing that would benefit the employees. Maybe they’re worried that the costs would be too high because an insanely high percentage of the employees are obese. I’m not […]

Is It Just TV? Um, Yeah

Bob has to write down what he's saying since no one can understand him

I have special folder on my work computer where I save all of my bullshit emails. Not surprisingly, I’ve amassed quite a few. The most recent one came from a supervisor in an attempt to make us care more about our customers. Let’s establish one already well-known fact: I don’t give a fuck about any of the customers, mainly because they’re all morons. Our bosses must recognize this and want to establish a sense of caring amongst the agents. How exactly are we supposed to care about customers when they’re calling about something as unimportant as TV? I mean really, it’s just fucking TV. Or maybe not. The title of this stupid email was, “Is It Just TV?” Here are the main points outlined in the email:

For the mother who has a child in the Army overseas and it’s her only way to stay informed, is it just TV?

Um, yeah. She’s a dumb redneck that watches Fox News, and anyone who knows anything can tell you that’s not going to inform her about anything worthwhile.

For the sports fanatic that can’t go to the stadium to watch the big game, is it just TV?

Um, yeah. The fact that he’s too poor to make it to the game doesn’t excuse him from calling his TV provider to bitch and moan about signal loss. Not only is it just TV, but it’s just a Nascar race. You can see the same shit staring at the cars on the interstate, dumbass.

For the sweet elderly woman who watches her favorite Soap Opera because she can’t make it out of her home, is it just TV?

Um, yeah. Just because she can’t figure out how to turn on her TV to spend her children’s inheritance on informercials doesn’t mean  I should give two shits. She’s also not sweet, she’s senile. There’s a big difference.

For the dying cancer patient who gets comfort out of his favorite comedy shows, is it just TV?

Um, yeah. Richard Pryor is awesome, but he’s not Jesus, and watching his stand-up won’t cure goddamn cancer.

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Merry Christmas From ESP!

Merry Christmas from all of us at ESP! Let me be politically correct: Happy Holidays. Actually, let me be politically incorrect: Happy Bday Jesus. I hope you all enjoy a relaxing weekend with family and friends. Let me fill you in on how we celebrated Christmas over at Telescreen… The Christmas festivities started at the […]

Winston Meets A Famous Person, Sort Of

I’ve been waiting awhile to meet a famous person. I assume with millions of Telescreen customers there has to be a few famous assholes with the shitty service in their mansions.

I get a call over in Super Department from some sales agent who needs help setting up a second account. He tells me the customer wants to have service for ten televisions at his second mansion. What the fuck kind of rich asshole is this?

I bring up the first account and find out it’s in Beverly Hills with a ten TV setup, and the name is vaguely familiar. Further research from the highest educational resource available, Wikipedia, reminded me this was a “famous actor.” I really didn’t believe this was the real guy at first. Then I read over the account notes and see all the people that called in were assistants, business managers, and accountants. Maybe this guy was the real deal. By real deal I mean the real shitty actor.

The sales agent was having a shit fit because this rich asshole’s assistant was insistent that we get the second account setup immediately. He never used the guys real name, but wanted to make sure I could work some magic and bend the rules to get this second account setup. I wasn’t able to get things connected and had to refer him to another department since this customer wanted a 20 TV setup compared to the normal customer limit of three. Who needs 20 fucking TVs? There really isn’t that much good shit on TV anyway. Ever heard of Karaoke Battle USA? Give me a fucking break.

I transfered the sales agent to the corresponding department and took a good long look at the information on my screen. In front of me was some rich and “famous” guy’s address, phone number, and even social security number. Could I somehow use this to my advantage? Then I realized I had another call coming from some new dumbshit, so I cleared all the crap off of my screen for good.

So who was this “famous person?” I suppose you could deem him an actor, yet if you look at the quality of his material, you may second guess it. One movie was about him living in the hood or some shit. It was meant to be a serious drama, but instead it was so terrible it could be deemed a comedy. Another one was about him driving cars or something. I never subjected myself to that horrible movie, but I believe it was a straight to DVD classic. I don’t want to use his real name, so let’s just go ahead and call him Tyreke Simpson. So if you’re out there Tyreke, you’re welcome for not selling your personal information to the paparazzi or the Russian Mob. I granted you some lenience since you really shouldn’t be famous in the first place.

Tell Someone Who Gives A Shit

You know when you call an 800 number and you get prompted as to why you’re calling in? After listening to that automated voice, aka Robot Douche, your call is then routed to wherever you specified. If your computer is broken, you get some poor asshole in tech support. If you want to inquire about your bill, you get some poor asshole who basically gets paid to listen to people complain. If you decide you want to spend your hard-earned cash money, you get some really annoying asshole who’s going to tell you to spend more money. What’s that department called? Oh yeah, sales.

The geniuses at Telescreen decided one day, why not combine all these departments into one super department? Then someone in HR decided I would be a good fit for this fun-filled department. Lucky me. After four weeks of training, we were supposed to be experts in solving TV and computer issues. We were taught to have the patience of a 3rd grade teacher in listening to dickweeds complain about their bills. We were shown how to sell new products and save customers who threatened to leave our beloved company.

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