Sleeping On The Job

Would this be considered reckless driving?

In order to succeed at a job and make it a career, and employee needs a desire to advance. They need to believe in the company and their position therein. The employee must understand that with some effort, they can not only benefit the company, but also themselves.

Having said that, I could (obviously) give a flying fuck about Telescreen. That’s why I sleep on the job.

Actually, it’s been awhile since I had a little nap in the cubicle. On the morning shift in Super Department, calls are one after the other for nine frantic hours straight. When I was on the late night Tech Department shift however, I had the opportunity to doze off from time to time, and even once, passed the fuck out.

Allow me to explain. When a customer gets a new receiver, if they can’t figure out how to set it up, they call us and we have to walk them through the process. It’s decidedly simple, very rarely deviating from the tried and true step-by-step process. But it sure does take a long time. We’re talking about Telescreen equipment here, so the stuff is pure monkey shit.

The agents are supposed to lead the customer only to a certain point and then end the call because they have to be available to answer more and more calls (the sweatshop mentality remember). Yet I know that if we stay on the line waiting for everything to download it will make our lives a lot better. I know customers appreciate having someone make sure everything works. I know that everything will usually work without any issues. I know that our Q and A team (Big Brother) stops listening to calls after 30 minutes. I know the call will last more than 30 minutes. I know I don’t have to follow any bullshit guidelines. I know I can chill the fuck out for a few moments in the otherwise crazy call center.

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You’re Not In My Will

No stamp collection is complete without the “Bread Forever.”

A call came my way with a woman disputing a 300 dollar charge. After searching high and low, I told her I didn’t see the charge in our system. Maybe it was from competitor Telethon and not Telescreen. Maybe her eyesight was going. Maybe she just couldn’t fucking read. Either way, she was being a pain in the ass.

Winston: “Again, I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t see the charge in our system. The only thing that will help us track down whether or not this was in fact a charge from Telescreen would be if you could send in the bank statement you have in front of you showing the 300 dollar charge.”

This made her mad because she was old, she was dumb, she was lazy, and apparently she was fucking Amish since she “didn’t have a computer.”

Winston: “I wish there was more I could do, but there’s no charge that I can reverse.”

This made her even more mad, but she kept pressing. I told her no again. She got really mad, but kept at me. I told her no again and then she pulled the pity card.

Customer: “I have cancer! I’m going to die! You’re killing me right now!”

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The Car-Sized Shit Fan

I have no idea what that means, nor do I want to know.

If you were to picture the Telescreen call-center, I’m sure you can imagine it’s as big a piece of shit as the company itself. Over the years, I’ve noticed a few things in particular that continue week after week. At this point, I can’t say I’m not surprised.

The janitors (or masters of the custodial arts) have a little system for cleaning shit up. If anything spills, leaks, etc, they just put a wet floor sign up and fucking leave it. Every damn time. Shit, I want their fucking jobs.

The cafeteria area looks pretty nasty, but when you get up close, you really get a better idea. Everything is sticky. The floors, the chairs, the tables, the counters. Not sure how or why, but I really don’t want to know.

The bathrooms look like a war zone, I mean, really goddamn disgusting. Hey, I went to college, it doesn’t bother me too much. Then I saw one day how they clean up. I was in there on my break of course (see Who Said You Could Go To the Bathoom? for further insight). Then a janitor came in, grabbed a wad of paper towel, wiped everything into the trashcan, and left. Boom, done, 10 second clean up. If you’re going to cut expenses, you might as well cut out cleaning supplies. I’ve seen that multiple times now, so it’s not a one off, but another one of their cleaning systems.

When shit breaks, shit stays broken. Lights that go out stay out, so we get bitched out by toothless trailer trash in the dark. When a toilet breaks, a plastic bag is put over it for an average of a month. The cooling system fucks up every spring and fall like clockwork. We have broken desks, chairs, and tables. The only things that are promptly fixed are the computers and phones, because God forbid we wouldn’t be taking calls every second of our shifts.

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The Remote Douche

 

Why yes that man in the tank is playing an anvil in front of a full orchestra.

Some people are just such raging assholes it’s ridiculous. They call up customer service and bully the reps into giving them what they want, all while verbally attacking and putting down the people that are helping them. I at least have the satisfaction of knowing that when they call me, I could give a fuck about their general existence on this earth, let alone their stupid fucking TV problems.

A call came in and must have been a cell phone, because it broke up a bit. I thought it sounded like some sort of salutation, but I wasn’t completely sure.

Winston: “I’m good, how are you?”

Customer: “What? I didn’t ask how you were. I asked if you have my account in front of you. Is that too much for you to handle?”

Winston: “I have your account here, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “Well then why don’t you look over my account and figure it out yourself?”

Apparently bitching is easy, but explaining is far too difficult.

Winston: “Well I see you’re trying to order a replacement remote.”

Customer: “No, I ordered a remote five times and five of you idiots failed. If they were working for me, they would all be fired. You are in a position of authority and you need to get this done NOW!”

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Winston Gets Hit On

In Montana, they have caution signs for deer. Other places have slightly different caution signs.

My calls are about 50/50. I’d say roughly 50% of the time the calls are uneventful and therefore amazing. 40% of the time a customer flips shit on me and has a fucking fit over something stupid. The other 10% are, well, just a little different…

Winston: “Okay ma’am, I think that settles your payment, you should be all good to. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Customer: “I know my nurse told me not to flirt, but I just can’t help it. Do you have yourself a wife Mr. Winston?”

Winston: “Um, no, but I don’t think this is…”

Oh no, this isn’t happening.

Customer: “Hot dog! How about a girlfriend?”

Nope, it’s happening. Better lay down the law and hang up before it gets any weirder.

Winston: “Yes, I do have a girlfriend, now is there anything else I can help you…”

Customer: “Ah, shoot! Well you call me if you ever break up.”

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Guilty By Association

Yes, that is in fact an OJ is not guilty pog.

There’s no denying Telescreen is an evil company. So very, very evil.

Big Brother, the dickweed that runs the place is one of the richest men in the US and treats his business like a totalitarian dictator. The company was founded on a set of principals where the upper echelon steps on others, manipulates employees, and will do anything in order to turn just the most miniscule of additional profit. I guess there’s a reason it keeps getting named the worst company to work for.

Surely, there are a lot of Telescreen customers that agree with that sentiment.

Customer: “Listen here pal, you may be a nice guy, I don’t know you. But you work for an asshole company and you know what? That makes you an asshole too. Good like with your life, asshole.”

Click.

Touché. I guess I’m guilty by association.

Winston Gets Sent To The Manager’s Office

Why is there a swing set in front of the manager’s office?

Every employee of any company dreads it. Just like when you were a kid and they had the principal’s office. Except instead of threatening to call your parents, they threaten to take away your paycheck. Yes, these are the fears of being sent to the manager’s office.

I was getting bitched out by some toothless hillbilly piece of shit who couldn’t count past six if it were on a Busch light can, so basically, just a typical day. On my extremely limited and time-monitored break, some of my fellow long-suffering employees were talking about someone who just got canned after being with the company for 12 years. Now in a call center, 12 years is like 100 fucking years. Considering the normal (smart) employee lasts weeks or months, that’s a big deal. So the gossip continued and I went back to work like normal. After my shift finally ended, I heard about some more people that seemed to be randomly fired. And then some more. Considering the constant hurt for employees and the high volume of idiot callers, this was seeming pretty weird. We all gossiped about our job security and those that were now free from Telescreen, and I left to join the real world, away from the evil dungeon known as Super Department.

The next day, I was back at it, this time helping some dumbass who could barely speak English add up a bill. Then up popped a chat from one of the supervisors who told me to go to the regional manager’s office. Now I’d been in the department manager’s office a few times, like in Don’t Get Mad And Leave, but never the regional manger’s. Once the failed math lesson was over, I slowly made my way to the office of the call-center regional manager, someone I had only seen at a distance after so many years of working in Super Department. It was like the fucking Wizard of Oz or something, except the she was a weird-looking chick and not a midget.

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