The phones don’t stop

Fri, 09 Jan 2004 20:30:00 +0000

It's a Friday. I get called into Bonnie's office. She claims there's a customer who complained that I was too curt and hostile and wasn't very much help. "We can't have that ... We cannot have that ... " The old me would have offered to call the customer and apologize to them. But I can't do that anymore. I simply say that I remember the woman growing angrier with every "this one's not in stock and there's no due date" that I gave her. Bonnie nods wearily. Fire me. Fire me. Fire me. Fire me.

I am excused.

People here are now "written up" regularly, more last year than this. Being written up is tantamount to getting slapped on the hand. Allegedly the progression is "written up," being given a "warning," and then being "fired." But so far, I've never known anyone who's gotten fired.

Heather didn't get fired when she showed everyone her new nipple ring last summer. Or Shelly, who openly tells her tales of sexual debauchery to anyone who will listen. I learned my first week here what her favorite sexual position was, that she met and mated with her current husband while married to her first, that her two teenage daughters were unwed mothers, and other fun minutiae. Once you prove you can take a call, all is pretty much forgiven.

The phones don’t stop

Thu, 08 Jan 2004 20:30:00 +0000

It's 1:20 on a Monday. I've just finished my lunch, a piece of dry fried chicken from the randomly maintained food carousel in the cafeteria. I top that off with a packet of M&M's with peanuts. I slide onto an unoccupied spot on a bench in the well-kept, gaudily landscaped common area. I'm sitting next to Greg, who trained with me when I first got here two years ago. I like Greg's down-to-earth contentedness. He's in data entry, and doesn't see a reason to ascend to the dizzying white-collar heights of the order-taker or customer service departments. "Too much stress" he says, and I agree, though I've willingly ascended as much as I will in a quick series of quiet promotions. Greg is one of the few people here that I actually confide in on any level, partly because he is so unpretentious and genuine, despite his penchant for being a great gossip. He knows everything about everyone, it seems. But I trust him.

We share a smoke, and are joined by Mary and Patty. Mary trained with Greg and me, but has had a decidedly different career path chosen for her. She volunteered to fill a suddenly vacated, thankless secretarial position, and has been unable to leave it. Simply put, no one else would take it for the meager wages, and she's told she's too good to promote.

Salon.com > Gilbert Neal

The phones don’t stop

The phones don’t stop