My Handwriting

Thanks Trueish Story and Pickles and Dimes for the idea!

Lessons Learned Working in a Call Center

My new job entails taking phone calls about legal research. It’s actually fairly entertaining, and I get to talk to all kinds of people about all kinds of issues, which I like.

In a very short amount of time, though, I’ve managed to develop a list of pet peeves, little annoyances, and strange observations.

Do not chew while you are on the phone. Think about it. Do you want to listen to someone chomp, chew, slurp and swallow their way through a meal? Me neither.

Mouth breathers can suck it.

Do not make calls while walking outside on a windy day. I can’t hear you over the sound of the tornado whipping by in the background.

If you’re calling from your car, turn off the radio please. I managed to hear the 5 day forecast for Houston while on a call this morning.

When two people who both work in call centers speak, a sort of stand-off develops over who needs to hang up, as both parties have been thoroughly trained to let the other person on the phone hang up first. Like a young couple first dating, it’s all “you hang up” “no, you hang up.”

This job has led to a complete aversion to (1) speaking on the phone, and (2) looking at a computer screen because I do both for 8 hours a day. I don’t want to even think about either once I’m off the clock.

If you’re going to ask me a question, you should formulate the question BEFORE you call me. I get paid either way, so I don’t much care, but I doubt you want to spend 45 minutes shuffling papers and spouting half-formed ideas before you manage to boil down your issue.

This should go without saying, but do not shout at me because you’re having computer issues, a difficult time finding the answers you need, or a generally crappy day. I’m sorry. I know whatever you’re dealing with is frustrating and you’re having a terrible time, but I didn’t write the computer code, take the difficult case, or do anything other than try to help. Screeching at me doesn’t fix any of the problems and it makes me more inclined to put my phone on mute and call you a name than it makes me want to help.

Call me stupid. I don’t much care because I found the answer you spent the last four days looking for, you horrible excuse for a human and I found it in under 5 minutes. Huh, turns out I do care.

If you sneeze into the phone, say excuse me. I might not be able to hear it because my eardrum is shattered, but I’ll appreciate the effort.

If you’re calling from your kid’s soccer game, please refrain from shouting instructions at your child directly into the phone. See eardrums, shattered.

I battle an unholy urge to fish my knitting out of my purse every time I have more than 2 minutes between calls. I keep thinking of all the socks I could finish.

I keep waiting for someone I know to call.  Friends, attorneys, researchers, call!

Petty, Thy Name is Me.

I have unfriended people on Facebook and unfollowed people on Twitter for the following reasons:

• She posted daily updates on her hampsters. Wrong on every level.
• She was a Tupperware lady and every post dealt with Tupperware parties.
• He wrote in all caps all the time.
• She posted updates on her child’s bowel movements.
• He repeatedly referred to his car as a sports car. It’s a Ford Probe. He wasn’t being ironic or sarcarstic.

Stupid Question

Me: What should I be for Halloween? A cowgirl or a sexy school-teacher?

The Mister: Uh, is this a trick question?

Unfortunately, I seem to have caught the plague and it appears that my Halloween plans will be scrapped in favor of pajamas, hot tea, and Pride & Prejudice.

Random Observations

• My parents bought a Smart Car. It is essentially a rollerskate with an engine. It is tiny. And it shifts oddly. It has a manual transmission but you don’t have to manually change gears. I don’t understand. Anyway, it’s tiny and sort of go-cart-like, but it’s great for them, since my dad has a nearly 40 mile commute into work and this car gets about 45 miles to a gallon. Still, rollerskate.
  
• Today, faced with yet another gray, rainy day (seriously, there has been one sunny day in the entire month of October), I couldn’t stomach the idea of having cold, wet feet again. So I put on my Wellies. There are black with pink trim and multicolor polka-dots. MJ got them for me. I love them. But apparently other people have a hard time reconciling my late-20s lawyer persona with my goofy polka-dot rain boots. I got a lot of strange looks.
  
• My job entails working in a call center helping other lawyers with their research questions. It’s not difficult work and the days actually fly by since I’m so constantly busy. The call center takes calls from across the country (the world, actually, but I really only get calls from the U.S.). In my short time here I have learned that people from New York are really kind of rude. Well, they come off as rude to my Midwestern sensibilities, but, I guess they are really just more abrupt and less patient. And a couple of them have taken a little too much pleasure in rubbing in the Yankees win over the Twins. I told them all I was looking forward to watching the Yanks lose the Series.
  
• I also learned that I have the cutest little accent ever. I guess I sound like an extra from Fargo. And here I thought I was pretty accent neutral, other than my pronunciation of the word “bagel” which doesn’t come up all that often during research calls.
  
• I have to wear an ID badge at work, but today I’m wearing a sweater dress and I have nowhere to clip the thing unless I hang it from the hem of my dress, which would force my ID badge to dangle rather unbecomingly below my knees.
  
• In my first day of real work (not training) I managed to roll over the cord to my headseat, resulting in me smacking my head on my desk and bellowing “fuck.” Luckily the guy I was talking to had a great sense of humor and thought it was funny. He also said he was willing to wait while I got some ice for my head, since he heard the smack over the phone and was a little concerned.
  
• I have what I call a zombie zit. It won’t die. It disappears for a little while, but it always comes back, bigger and badder. I was complaining about it to my mom, who goes, “Oh, well, not to worry you, but that’s how your dad’s skin cancer started.”
  Not to worry me?! My dad had basal cell carcinoma, which, if you have to have skin cancer, is the way to go, but they took a CHUNK out of his NOSE and it was CANCER. I’ve already had pieces of “questionable” skin dug out of my shoulders, some of which exhibited some pre-cancerous growth. I am not messing around.
  So I tried to get a dermatology appointment, but, haha, they’re booked through May. I got in to see a regular doctor, who looked at the zombie zit and wrote me two prescriptions to try to make it go away. When she found out about my dad’s skin cancer and my own issues, she gave me strict instructions to come back in 6 weeks if the zombie zit hasn’t gone away. So far, with just one day of the prescriptions, the zombie zit is looking a bit better.
  
• I got new glasses from zennioptical.com. They were $25, including shipping, anti-reflective coating, a case and a microfiber cleaning cloth. And I LOVE them. They are cute, nice and lightweight, and they fit well. I was worried that because I was buying glasses at 1/10 the price I’d pay for them in a store they would suck, but they are just as nice as the ones I’ve purchased at the optometrist’s office or glasses stores. The shipping was superfast, the customer service rep I talked to when I thought my order hadn’t gone through was very helpful, and the whole experience was awesome. Highly recommend it.
  
• I got an iphone. Or, more accurately, the mister bought one for me as a belated birthday gift. It is awesome.

Anatomy of a Fight

Note:

I become unreasonable when I am hungry. Low blood sugar turns me into a raving lunatic with anger management issues and tendencies towards violence. I know this. I try to regulate the anger. It doesn’t work. I need to eat regularly. You’d think after 7 years, the mister would pick up on this, but he can be a tiny bit dense.

Me: Wow, I’m hungry. Can we stop and pick something up to eat?

The mister: Sure. I just need to stop by Home Depot, the auto-parts store, the grocery store, Target, the post office, the mall, Walgreens, and my parents’ house.

Me: Um, okay. Can we maybe stop before we get started on that?

Him: Nah, it won’t take long.

Me: concerned silence.

45 minutes pass. My stomach is gnawing on my spine and my mood has dropped a bit. We are only on stop 3.

Me: Listen, I’m really hungry, can we please stop?

Him: I’m almost done.

It’s been another half hour since our last conversation. My stomach is audibly growling and I’m beginning to get the low-blood-sugar-shakes. My mood could now best be classified as irate with a side of irrational.

Me: I am HUNGRY. Stop now and find me a snack.

Him: One more stop.

Twenty minutes pass. We are still dicking around in the aisles of Fleet Farm. I am furious and barely coherent.

Me: FOOD. NOW. Or I will gnaw off your fucking arm.

Him: Um, okay. What do you want? Burger? Pizza? Pasta?

I do not want choices at this point. Choices will only fuel the rage. I can’t think clearly enough to pick a restaurant. The best I can be counted on to do is restrain myself from physically attacking a waitress when she brings the bread basket.

Me: I don’t care.

Him: But you’re so hungry, what do you want?

Me: I. Do. Not. Care. I just want food.

Him: But…

Me: snarl

Him: Jeez, there’s no reason to be so angry.

The moment I knew he had truly figured it out was this weekend, when my mood plummeted and I began commenting on how hungry I was. The mister got it and after just a few moments of my bad attitude, pulled into a parking lot, scored us a table for two, and asked for some chips and salsa to be brought out right away.

It's the Little Things

It’s been awhile. I’d apologize, but I’ve been busy!

First, foremost, and most exciting, I got a job! It’s a 4-month temp job that should get me through the end of the year, with the potential to be extended or maybe (hopefully) go full time. It’s not precisely the kind of job I was hoping to get, more along the lines of pitching in the minor leagues than starting in the majors, but it is a JOB, with a (puny) paycheck and self-worth. I’ll take it!

Second, my little Neon, faithful as it was for the last six months, is going bye-bye. It needs some work, none of it cheap, and I don’t feel like dealing with it. So, I’m going to sell it. I picked up a used Jeep Cherokee that’s a vast improvement over the neon – it shifts into reverse and third without me muttering prayers from the driver’s seat.

Third, I got my hair done. I keep thinking my hair is either wet or greasy because it’s usually only this dark when it’s one of those two things, but I do like the darker color. More natural, less brassy.

Fourth, the mister has been wearing the socks I made for him. As the temperature dropped he dug them out of his dresser and started wearing them. He refers to them as his “real socks.” Darling man.