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Chapter 6: Helping in the Call Centre

Dear Journal

Today I am excited to doing something a little different from the usual fare of setting traps for the wizard in the airduct and staring at the clock. I have been told that I will be helping out in the Customer Service Call Centre. Supposedly several of the Call Centre employees didn’t check in for work today. Some of my colleagues are saying it may be linked to some murder-suicides that I read about, that could explain why there are so many more security guards at work today unless maybe someone read my concerns about the lack of office defences should the hordes attack. Either way I am pleased.

Myself and four other Call Centre “trainees” are shown a video about how important we are in delivering customer service. We are then asked about history of mental illness, drug dependency or criminal record before we are handed the contact details of the office psychologist.

As we step out of the video room and into the call centre I am overcome by the sheer size of the department. Hundreds of small cubicles, much smaller than my normal box and somehow an even greyer shade of grey. As we walk past the rows and rows of cubicles, I notice that each is exactly the same. One phone, one chair, one computer and one zombie-like creature chained to the desk. I fear that this may not be as exciting as I originally imagined.

I am shown my cubicle and quickly notice the chalk outline of what appears to be a human on the floor… that must be the designated rest area. I am immediately introduced to Mr Nesburn the Call Centre Manager and my new boss for the day. He is toweringly tall man though his true height is immeasurable due to a prominent hump and posture resembling a fish hook, presumably caused by years of peering over his employee’s shoulders. His skin tone resembles the grey of my old cubicle, which I am already starting to miss… I wonder how my traps are holding up.

The job seems pretty simple, we just have to answer calls all day and do our best not to lose our tempers as all manner of ghoul, beast and banshee shriek profanities at us, or what I can only assume are profanities as many of these I have never come across before so all in all the experience is quite educational.

I felt a bit tired so had a rest in the designated rest area. This appeared to upset Mr Nesburn who remarked “Not another one” as he walked past. I’m not sure what “he lasted longer than usual” was supposed to mean.

So the day continues with me absorbing all sorts of abuse. What I don’t understand is why these people abuse someone who knows their name, telephone number and address and is trained to kill with his bare hands… another name on “the List”

Speaking of “the List” it is getting longer and longer, I fear I may need another pad of these colourful and magical “post its”…what makes them sticky is beyond me, surely dark magic is present here… but they sure are colourful. One learns to appreciate colour in the Call Centre.

 
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Posted by on May 13, 2011 in journal

 

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