In my current incarnation as Temp Cheese, I transcribe the voicemails of people too damn busy to check them. I get to wear this little headset thingy and court my secret lover, Carpal Tunnel, all on company time. While I have no internet access, I do have the entertainment value of listening to increasingly irate or frustrated or flat-out psychopathic callers, as apparently those I am transcribing for couldn't give a good fuck-all if they ever talk to anyone on the phone again.
My Clue, O Clue, Wherefore Art Thou, My Clue?
It became clear after call three from the same gentleman that he had no idea of the difference between voicemail and On Hold.
Call One: "Hello, this is Dave Dimwit, and I need to talk to an associate about my account..... Hello?" *click*
Call Two: "Are you still there? My account number is 0000000, and I have this problem... hey? Helloooooo?"
*click*
Call Three: "Why is thing disconnecting on me? Every time I go on hold, it cuts off... what the hell?"
*click*
Call Four: "Goddamn phone tree. I'm still here, someone pick up!"
*click*
Call Five: "...... (television noise in the background) Shirley? Shirley? Is this you? "
*click*
Call Six: ".... (television still on in background, definitely the theme song to 'Gilligan's Island').... mmmm, mmm, mmmm.... with Gilligan! (shouting) THE SKIPPER TOO!....mmmm, mmmm.... fuck. "
*click*
Call Seven: "No, they aren't answering, the assholes.... what? Yeah, get me one too, the Coors..... ANSWER THE PHONE! ANSWER THE PHONE!"
*click*
Call Eight: "Don't think I won't keep calling. I got all day and a case of beer."
*click*
And that was the last we heard from him. Guess it was an episode of "Gilligan" he hadn't seen.
I Feel Your Pain
"Um... yeah... um... this is Sally Spacecase, and um.... I've been calling for a few days now and no one returns my calls and um..... I mean.... are you all okay? I get the feeling you're unhappy. Or maybe in some kind of emotional distress? ..... Yeah....I didn't get a feeling of warmth or caring or anything from your outgoing message... ummmmm.......Perhaps I could recommend a good spiritual advisor? Or some counseling? ..... Yeah. So, call me, 'kay? Buh-bye."
I have five more weeks scheduled for this... I feel like the Titanic, only scraping the tip of the iceburg so far. But without that sinking feeling.
Posted by LeeAnn at March 25, 2005 07:36 PM | TrackBack.. never underestimate the attraction of an unseen Gilligan episode...
Posted by: Eric at March 26, 2005 05:53 AM"Press * To Go Mad"
When I saw that title, I thought that "*" was a symbol meaning "asshole" (Kurt Vonnegut did that in one of his books), and you were going to criticize the liberal media :-)
Posted by: Harvey at March 26, 2005 06:41 AMThis job combined with you doing it is the perfect gift for the blogsphere. I see many many posts ahead.
It's like hitting the motherlode!
too funny, must have been a brain surgeon to love Gilligan and Coors
Posted by: Mike at March 26, 2005 07:40 AMDon't worry about that sinking feeling. It likes to show up a little late usually.
I couldn't comment on the last post and just wanted to let you know that I laughed my ass off at your t-shirt.
"My Other Tits Are In The Shop"
Greatness.
Posted by: elliott at March 26, 2005 07:56 AMJust be thankful you don't actually have to speak to these people on the phone. I worked in a medical call center for a short time. One lady called about 20 times a night. One night when she called and asked again "whay isss maa cervixx purrrple" I told her it was purple for the same reason the previous five nurses had told you and hung up on her. I received a round of applause from the other nurses in the call center.
Posted by: Azygos at March 26, 2005 04:27 PMI'm sure you've heard of the expression "like trying to rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic".....giggle.
Posted by: Tonya at March 28, 2005 08:54 AMYou can be reassured by the fact that the reason the Titanic's hull failed catastrophically was the relatively primitive metallurgy of the time. If you can pass a cryo Charpy test you will survive just fine.