The Call Center Diary

Going-Away

jasminewetcocker — Mon, 22 Oct 2007 10:30:50 +0000

At 5.13 I’m at my desk spraying Pledge onto a yellow cleaning cloth Zsolt keeps in the cupboard in the disabled toilet when Caroline comes over with an envelope.
‘Whats this?’ I say.
‘Going-away present,’ she says, ‘from the office,’
I’m surpised. I wasn’t expecting anything.
‘I wasn’t expecting anything,’ I say.
We didn’t know what to get you,’ she says.
I open the envelope and find two £10 book tokens and the card they’ve all signed.
’2 x £10? Those cheap cunts only put in about 25p each.’ I say.
And we laugh until I say I might cry.

The Nice Man Part III

jasminewetcocker — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:31:29 +0000

Tuesday night and I’m surprised when I take a call from Mr Nice Man.
‘Hello,’ he says, in his lovely, deep, gorgeous Scottish accent.
‘Ooh, Mr Nice Man,’ I say, ‘I recognise your voice,’
‘Aye,’ he says, ‘I’ve called so many times,’
‘I’m surprised to hear from you again, I say, ‘Have you still not received your furniture,’
‘Aye,’ he says again, ‘that’s right,’
I’m genuinely shocked and I tell him so.
‘I’m genuinely shocked, Mr Nice Man. I can’t believe you still haven’t got your goods,’ I say, wondering what his poor guests sat on at his birthday party.

A Woman Has Been Receiving Unsolicited Mail

jasminewetcocker — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:31:00 +0000

A woman calls up for the Mat Company. It seems they’ve been sending unsolicited mail.
‘I’ve received a brochure from you which I didn’t ask for. ‘She says, her voice a nasty-posh tone, ‘Please remove me from your list?’
‘Let me have your postcode, madam,’ I say.
Nothing comes up for her postcode and I tell her so.
‘Well, I’ve had a brochure come,’ she says, ‘addressed to me, Lady Randall, and I find it very invasive,’
‘I bet you do,’ I say, ‘I’ll have head office remove it. Goodbye,’
‘Goodbye,’ she says.
Pompous old cunt, I think, hanging up.

Rocking Horse

jasminewetcocker — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:29:51 +0000

A woman calls up to order shit from the OverpricedShit Christmas catalogue.
‘I’d like to order the rocking horse for my niece,’ she says.
Inputting the code I see they aren’t in stock.
‘They won’t be in stock until the 11th of November,’ I tell her.
‘Oh no,’ she cries out, as if I’ve just told her she has vagina cancer.
‘Don’t you think it’s leaving it a bit late? I’ll be so disappointed if it isn’t here for Christmas,’ she shrieks.
I’m astonished at her petulance and start wondering whether the horse is for her or the fucking kid.

Facemasks And Food

jasminewetcocker — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:29:23 +0000

While I’m sat at my desk putting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation facemasks into tiny red key ring sacks, I overhear Sharon’s conversation with Jo (from sales) about food.
Sharon is trying to decide where to go for dinner with her husband this evening and has swivelled her chair all the way round to face Jo, who is offering advice.
‘I don’t like the colour of it,’ she says through pursed lips, responding to Jo’s suggestion of Indian, ‘the smell of it. Disgusting,’
Sharon dislikes a lot of foodstuffs.
She dislikes Curry, Tofu, anchovies and Quorn.
She does however like Pizza, Vodka, and Smoking.

It’s Not MY Website

jasminewetcocker — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:28:38 +0000

A woman calls up.
‘I’m on your website,’ she whines, ‘trying to place and order but I’m getting a blank screen,’
‘Let me just have a look,’ I say, putting her on hold thinking it’s not MY website.
After doing a test order I get her back on the line and tell her that things are working from my end.
‘It’s working my end,’ I say, ‘perhaps you have a slow connection,’
‘Well, I don’t believe that,’ she shouts, ‘everything else works fine,’
Then we sit in silence until finally I say, ‘Anything else?’
‘No,’ she says, and hangs up.

Uppity Cunts

jasminewetcocker — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 17:28:16 +0000

After lunch I get a succession of uppity cunts calling to order mats.
Two of them in particular get uptight and impatient when I ask them to repeat the spelling of their hyphenated surnames.
‘Could you spell your surname just one more time?’ I ask Mr Upyour-Ownarse, just to wind him up, smiling to myself as the supercilious, double barreled cunt shouts it out at me again, letter by letter.
I suppose his attitude might be directly linked to the fact that he can afford to spend several hundred pounds or more on something on which to wipe his feet.

What Type of Bird?

jasminewetcocker — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 16:20:35 +0000

A woman calls up for the Jesus charity. Her voice is fast and high and, because I’m bored, I start to imagine if she were an animal, what kind of animal she would be.Initially I picture her as a hen, but as the call goes on, her nervousness becomes more apparent, so I imagine her as something more bird like, something beyond a fowl. She’s not a Robin, as it’s a pretty bird and seems to have self-confidence, and though this woman may or may not be pretty, her voice betrays timidity, ruling out the Budgerigar, Cockatoo and Vulture.

Carrie Acting Extreme

jasminewetcocker — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 20:29:42 +0000

It’s half past 7, an hour exactly to go, and we start talking about the new workers.
‘I haven’t met any of the new ones,’ says Carrie.
‘I like Jo, she’s really sweet,’ I say.
‘Is she the one who sits over there?’ says Carrie, pointing to the desk where Jo sits.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Is she the really pretty one?’ says Phyl.
‘I hate her then,’ says Carrie and we all laugh.
Then we’re quite for a minute.
Then I say, ‘Anyone want a banana?’
‘I don’t like bananas,’ says Alison.
‘I detest them,’ says Carrie, ever the extreme.

Emma’s Little Chocolate Bites

jasminewetcocker — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 20:28:36 +0000

By 2.13 I’m bored, hungry and fixated on a tub of Tesco chocolate bites on Emma’s desk.
‘Emma,’ I call out, ‘Emma,’
I can see Emma is chewing and has a bag of crisps on her desk so I imagine the noise of the crisps crunching in her mouth is blocking my call.
Finally, I get up and stand in front of Emma’s desk.
‘Any chocolates in that tub?’
‘Yes,’ Emma says, ‘want one?’
Lifting the tub, I see a Bananrama cd lying there.
‘Ooh, Bananrama,’ I say.
‘Like them? Take it,’ Emma says, ‘It can be your going-away present.’