"Honey, please..."
She might as well have said, "Hi, yes, this is the Voice of Doom."
Those freaking, fracking plates! You try it! You try navigating through arguably the WORST series of windows and options to find what belongs to each series of dinnerware. And good luck to you. Every single window takes approximately 10,000 years to open, and then when you try to scroll, it won't. So you try again. And then finally it scrolls...all the way to the bottom where you didn't want to be. To make it all the better, The internet is throwing up Pinterest tabs for no reason and then freezing the internet altogether. My boss tells me he thinks it's a personal problem. The look I give him is worthy of death. He doesn't care. He says, "I'm a philosopher. I never thought I'd be a boss, Lori..." and we both laugh. Do either of things have anything to do with the other? Hell no. But that's kind of the point of this rant - er - post.
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"Chicken Leg and Wide Calf" It sounds like it should be the name of a Western movie..."Chicken Leg and Wide Calf". It was in fact about a woman buying boots. Simple enough. But we have to ask questions that may embarrass people. We don't know, because we don't know the people we're talking to...yet. In that oh-so-exciting process of looking for a shoe, I had to ask her a question I didn't think would be particularly touchy: Are you a wide calf? "The Mute Button" - or - "Too Much Personality for Hollywood"Many, many times, as a consumer, I have answered a telemarketing call and had to ask, "Are you still there?" when the sound on the phone seemed to go dead. I never knew why that sound was happening. And every time, the person would come back on and say cheerfully, "Oh yes, I'm here! I'm just checking on that for you," and I would say, equally cheerfully, "Oh no problem! The phone just suddenly sounded odd, so I wanted to be sure I still had you." I had no idea it was The Mute Button. I believe I will be writing an entire play around The Mute Button. In fact, maybe I'll use that as the title! In fact, I have just had an unintentional training in the MOST hilarious use of The Mute Button EVER! "The Screaming Man" - or - "The Time I Started Laughing Instead"Me: Regrouping fast and being incapable of leaving "smartass" on the tarmac...] Sir, I just got here... Man: STOP. TALKING! LET ME TALK! YOU WON'T LET ME TALK!!! JUST STOP TALKING! Me: [...] Man: I WAS TALKING WITH A WOMAN AND SHE WAS LOOKING FOR MY JACKET AND THEN SHE PUT ME ON HOLD AND THEN SHE HUNG UP ON ME!!! Me: Well, sir, I will be glad to - Man: STOP. TALKING. OHMYGOD WHY WON'T YOU STOP TALKING! I'M JUST LOOKING FOR A DKNY JACKET AND YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE THREE IN YOUR STORE. [Man finally draws breath.] IT'S NOT HARD! I JUST WANT A D. K. N. Y. JACKET! AND SHE WAS LOOKING. DO YOU HAVE ONE OR NOT??? Me: Sir, I'll help you. But you have to stop yelling. I'm not going to be able to help you if you keep yelling. It doesn't help me help you. So you're going to have to calm down. Man: SHUT. UP! YOU KEEP TALKING AND TALKING! STOP! TALKING! IT'S NOT THAT HARD! WHY...??? I JUST WANT A JACKET AND YOU HAVE THREE IN YOUR STORE... [Apparently we're holding them prisoner?] "Preaching To the Greek Chorus"It's just a Skype call. "Just" a call with bigwigs. Just a chance to give my opinion about the work I do and the tools we use. Just a chance to ask for what I want. Kind of like Christmas. Without wrapping paper. Offered to me like mannah from heaven with double, triple, quadruple benefits:
It's just a 30-minute conference call.
With other people on the phone from the different departments. Bedding, Michael Kors, Chat. Others I haven't heard of. Other opinions - many of which coincide with my own. My own opinions that ring surprisingly confident in my own ears... "Appreciating the Rich" and "Crying In My Beer"My boss made me cry. But here's the kicker: it was in a good way. When I feel like someone who "gets" me, really hears me, I just have to cry. Fortunately I had a beer at hand to catch those tears (he was kind enough to call and check on me when I texted him that I might not be in to work the next day). And the next day I went back to work with my spirit blown out a bit from the weekend that kicked my ass and the people on the phones that filled that weekend. Here's what I'm loving: my boss is allowing me to do some of what I already do well - coaching. And I. Love. It. I love it because it's empowering for whoever I'm coaching as well as it is for me. Of course, it does nothing in the short run for my commission, but since this is the direction I want to move anyway, it's all good in the long run. Win-win! So...dragged my ass into work yesterday, the bottom of my eyes drooping down to my neck. Finally, by about 1:30 I'm sort of starting to perk up a bit. A lot of coffee and a shit-ton of grit. And then the magic happens. The kind of magic you pray for, fantasize about, dream of. "When Bottom Lines Collide"This weekend at the store, the "parents" stayed home and the kids ran the place. All Saturday, no one there to back us up with answered questions or morale-boosting assistance. And it has never been more apparent - without the hustle and bustle of the weekday and without the appearance of someone to support our heroic efforts - just how much weight we bear in this Sales and Customer Service circus. Something in me broke. Maybe it was too many people yelling at me. Maybe it was too many people calling (1) while in their car, (2) with me on speaker, (3) while the wind whistled through their opened window, and (4) them getting exercised because I couldn't understand what they were saying. Or maybe it was the end of the honeymoon? Or the realization of how thickly the corporate rules and regs are slathered on no matter where you go. It's what happens to the bottom employees in any misguidedly finance-instead-of-people-first-bottom-line-focused industry: first you follow the rules, hoping that you will do well enough to reap the rewards; next, you realize that the cost for following the rules is too high to endure for a long, long time because it's so emotionally- and energy-draining, and far, far less compensated for than it should be; and finally you look at the rigged game through your lens of exhaustion, outrage and surrender and you stop caring so much. Or you stop caring altogether. This is the point at which the Corporation turns to you (or your manager) and says, "Her stats are falling! She has become a bad employee! Make her better or let her go!" This is the point at which people let themselves go, either caring less about the quality of the work, or simply leaving the company and taking all of their promise, all of their acquired knowledge away from the company. And the company, blind to the real bottom line, which is the people they have failed, simply lies and says, "We'll miss you." "Best of luck." In my 20's I was living in Vermont and working as a waitress in a restaurant called The Skyline because it looked out over the famous New England trees which dotted a breath-taking vista spanning four different states. "Bedding, Borscht and Bitches"It was a day. Yesterday. KitchenAid came to teach us about all of the cool attachments, and to use their mega-juicer to make juices that I just wouldn't stop drinking. Apple, kale, orange, and a little water. Health in the middle of a stressed-out day. Priceless. I was happy to take a break from those phones. From the man who called, looking for a $99 suit that he needed right then, because he waited until 3 days before his trip to shop. Okay. It happens. Not a problem. But...no...not that blue...not quite that blue either. And....wait...drive 15 miles to one store to get the pants, and 7 to get the jacket? Ooh...too far...don't have the time... Then go without the suit. I honestly don't care. 1% commission on a $150 suit is $1.50. I'll still sleep at night. So, yeah, taking a 2+ hour training break: needed. But it sure did louse up my money for today...and yesterday at the Adrianna Papell training did the same. Not the best two days I've ever had at the store. But the "best" was yet to come... "Shakespearean Ode to the Retail Diva"O thou ruddy-faced screamers. Thou screaching, over-confident dominators of oxygen, Time, and breath. Air whistling through fanged teeth and flappng lips as you talk...talk...talk... and punish. Talk...talk...talk... and punish again. May your bags and baskets of effortful shopping remain as empty as your cruel hearts. Thou snapping denizens of hell. Such is my wish for thee - cruel and black and gleeful in its pointed revenge - "Oracle"This job is perfect for adrenaline junkies. Actors. Achievers and Over-Achievers, COME ON DOWN! By the middle of the day, all 6 of my arms, Kali-like, have emerged from my sides, and I am whacking balls back at multiple people at incredible speed: cranky people, nice people, people ordering, and people just damn-out wasting my fucking time. "Hello, thank you for calling. My name is Lori. How can I help you? "Hello, thank you for calling. My name is Lori. How can I help you?" "HelloThankYouForCallingMyNameIsLoriHowCanIHelpYou????" "No, ma'am, I'm not in the store, I'm with a part of the store that can see all of the malls throughout the U.S." "No-ma'am-I'm-not-in-the-store..." "NoMa'AmI'mNotInTheStore", and so forth. By the end of each day I'm wired. I come home and drink a few sips of wine, I eat something, and I hit either the couch, or my bed. I bemoan the lack of entertainment inherent in not having a partner to share my life with - but I'm used to this bemoaning; I've been doing it off and on for a very long time - and I go back to working on my business, and writing blogs. |
AuthorWorking in Sales at a Call Center for one of the biggest stores in the country should come with hazard pay. Archives
December 2019
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