I’ve never figured out why Wednesdays are such bad days. Saturday and Sunday are bad for obvious enough reasons: No one wants to deal with their phone company on a weekend. Mondays are bad because our Customer Service isn’t open Sunday, so two day's worth of complaints are rolling in and people are left on hold upwards of half an hour or sometimes more. Fridays are bad because people are responsible and are calling us in droves to pay their bill, creating long hold times upward of half an hour or sometimes more which all the more angers the people who just want to complain. Wednesday has nothing about it though, and by all logic, should be as quiet as any Tuesday or Thursday, but they are murderous. My long-standing theory is that if you call your phone company on a Saturday after 8PM, on a Saturday, you must have mental problems to begin with. It is a theory that is yet to be disproved, but why is it that mainly people with mental problems call all day on Wednesday? It makes no sense.
Chloe presented the idea that it has to do with organization. People who call on Friday are calling to pay, demonstrating their organizational skills. Many people calling on Monday are calling to find out why their phone isn’t working when they paid their bill on Friday. Tuesdays and Thursdays are quiet because nothing significant is happening. People calling on Wednesday are calling because they are completely scatterbrained and just happen to think of the phone bill at random times.
If SpectraCom's customers are smart, which generally, they are not, they would call to pay on Wednesday because their payment would be posted to our system by Friday to start reconnection before the weekend instead of having to wait until the beginning of the next week before any kind of reconnection happens. It’s rare that anyone follows this logic. Of course, whose fault is it that they didn’t pay their bill on time and got their phone turned off? Mine, of course.
Kurt was unable to secure three desks together today, and I lose a seat because I’m five minutes later than Chloe. I have to sit by myself at the end of the row of desks where I will be secluded like a leper all day, but at least out of earshot of any concerned manager who may be looking for some kind of offense.
It only takes two calls before my trench is under fire.
“Thank you for calling SpectraCom, my name is Rubin, can I please have your ten-digit phone number?”
“708 555 6715,” says the angry-sounding woman on the other end.
“Thank you. Please hold while I access your account.” I place her on hold and when I return, Lisa White verifies her name and address. From her tone of voice, I have a bad feeling already. “All right, Ms. White, I’m showing a credit balance on your cancelled account of $43.72. What can I do for you today?”
“I want a refund for that,” she snaps.
I start looking through the account and say, “Not a problem, ma’am, I need to review your account. This will just take me one moment to get set up.” Seeing that she meets all the requirements for a refund, I start filling out the e-form to submit a refund request. “Your account is cancelled, and since this credit balance comes from payments that you made, I am authorized to issue you this refund.”
“You’re going to be able to do that?”
“I’m half done with it right now. As long as you are having this sent to the same address, there will be no problems. Otherwise, I’ll need to transfer you to our research department so they can update the address.”
“Yes, it’s going to that address.”
“Then this will be arriving within a maximum time frame of 30 days, though it usually only takes about two weeks.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to get it here faster than that. I need it tomorrow.”
I pause. “Well, ma’am, I’m afraid that's not possible.”
“Let me speak to your supervisor. He’ll get it here tomorrow.”
“Fine,” I sigh. “Hold on.” The be all, end all. If something doesn’t work, a supervisor can fix it. If I say something is impossible, clearly a supervisor will be able to whip out his or her magic wand and get that cash–not check–in Lisa White's hand by the end of the day.
I place Ms. White on hold, complete the refund, and flag down Sarah. She comes running to take my call. “What’s going on?” she asks me.
“This lady wants a refund,” I tell her. “It’s a legitimate refund; I’ve already completed it and done everything that needs to be done. I gave her the 30 day time frame, told her it would probably take about two weeks, but she says she wants it tomorrow.”
“Did you tell her it would take at least two to three days just to have it mailed?”
“Seemed pointless to try.”
“All right, slide over,” Sarah says, plugging her headphones into my adapter. She takes the customer off hold and says, “Hello?”
“Hello?” Lisa White responds.
“Hi, my name is Miss Thomas. I’m a manager in SpectraCom Financial Services. What can I do for you today?”
“Are you Rubin’s manager?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He needs some retraining or something.”
“Why is that ma’am?” Sarah asks, raising predatory eyebrows in my direction.
“Well, I’m sure you can see I have a credit balance. I need you to send it back to me. Rubin is refusing to do so.”
“Well, ma’am, I’m showing that the representative you spoke with has already entered the request. Glancing over your account, I can see it meets all the requirements to be approved by our research department, so it just needs to be processed and mailed out by that department. It might take a maximum time frame of 30 days, though it very rarely takes that long.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, he told me all that.”
She mutes her line and says, “So why did she say you refused to send it to her?” She releases the mute button and asks, “Well, what can I do for you today?
“I need that check tomorrow.”
“Well, ma’am, I’m afraid even if it were to go through research and be approved and go in the mail tomorrow, which I have seen happen, but only once or twice, it would still take two to three days to go through the mail. I’m afraid there isn’t anything that can be done to force that process.”
“Well, you’re going to have to.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“You’re going to need to force it along. I need this check in my hand tomorrow.”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid what you are asking me isn’t possible.”
“Make it happen. If you can't do it, get your supervisor on the phone. Why are you refusing to give me my money?”
“Ma’am, we’re not refusing you anything. This money will be sent back to you, but it takes time to do that.”
“Then get your supervisor on the phone.”
“My supervisor doesn’t take calls. I am as high as you can get on the phone in this department.”
“You’re afraid you’ll get in trouble!”
“No, my supervisor doesn’t take calls. If you are interested, I can give you our Customer Relations address, and all of my information, and you can write to them with your concerns. They will investigate and address any inappropriate actions that may have been taken.”
“I want to talk to them.”
“Hold on one moment while I bring up their information.”
“No, listen to me, I want to talk to them. Transfer me.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but that department doesn't take calls either. You need to contact them in writing. Let me just get up that address for you.”
“No, transfer me. What’s the number?”
“There isn’t a number. As I was saying, they don’t take...”
“Transfer me to them right now, or I’m going to tell them you refused to do that too.”
“As I’ve told you twice now, ma’am, they don’t take calls. I don't even have a phone number where I could contact them, let alone give it out. I would have to contact them in writing as well. Would you like me to provide you with the address to write to?”
“No, what I want you to do is to get me my check tomorrow. I don’t care what you have to do, but if it isn’t in my mailbox tomorrow, I’m calling and getting you fired.”
“Ma’am, to do what you are suggesting, I would have to go back in time.”
“So do it.”
“Excuse me, did you just ask me to time travel?”
“If that is what it takes to get me my money, then you do that.”
“Ma’am, are you aware that time travel isn’t possible?”
“I don’t care what you say. My check had better be in my mailbox tomorrow.”
“Ma’am, we have done all we can do at this point. I will thank you for using SpectraCom. Your check will arrive in the time frame I quoted to you. You have a nice day, ma’am.” Sarah mutes the line and takes off her headset while I’m certain Lisa White continues to scream and wail about how she will be calling back to get both of us fired. “Log out, Rubin. We have a meeting.”
“Uh oh,” I say. “Is this a firing meeting?” I set my system up to log off as soon as Lisa White hangs up, which may take a few minutes, as I can still hear her screaming wildly.
Sarah looks me over hungrily, tapping her fingertips together and hissing. “No, you’re safe... At the moment, at least. This is a whole-team meeting. Something about company-wide changes. They didn’t even brief me on the subject. Could be the reason behind their little change of heart with you though.”
When Lisa White finally comes to the conclusion that no one is listening to her, I log off and go to "CONFERENCE ROOM 2," a much large meeting place, useful for scolding entire teams instead of individual representatives. One older lady from my team is already sitting at the 10x4 faux-elm table in the center of the room. Chloe and Kurt take seats on either side of me and we make small talk as the rest of the people file in. Sarah finally enters, followed by her manager, Laura Rice, a bulbous little woman who resembles a mother hen. She waddles in, surveys the scene, and shuts the door.
“How is everybody doing?” Mrs. Rice asks with a sigh as she sits down at the head of the table, her arms draped across it and her chin nearly resting on the wood. “Is everyone here? Is everyone good?”
There are a few indiscernible, mumbled responses.
“Well, let’s get started then.” She shuffles through a stack of papers that were already on the table and smiles at us. “There are some major changes going on, major changes.”
“SpectraCom’s upper management has been listening to our calls and I’m sorry to say, they are not happy. I've got good news for you though: None of you are doing anything wrong; you simply were all taught incorrectly. What they are unhappy with is exactly what we have been telling you to do. We are a collection department. We have always told you that the focus is always the money. Your job is to get the money. Any other concern is the concern of some other department. We have always told you that once you have collected on the money, you get the customer to the proper department.” She lets out a heaving, exaggerated sigh. “That now has to change. They want our concern not to be on the money, but on the customer. It used to be that we wanted you to be aggressive, pull out all the stops to get that money. Now, instead of doing it with a sword, they want you to do it with a feather.”
Suddenly, this all makes sense, every bit of it. I used to be exactly what SpectraCom wanted out of its employees. I was the one who pulled out all the stops. I was an example for each and every other employee on the floor. Despite telling me not to bully the customer, they wanted every other representative to do just as I was doing. Now some limp-dick pen pusher in some office in some other city has decided that the methods I learned and love are no longer the way of a good SpectraCom employee. They want to root out all the bad, change the way everyone on the floor behaves. They realized that I could be used as a perfect example again for the friendly rep they are now searching for. The new role they want to cast me in doesn't come with nearly as much glory though. That is the reason why the order to fire me came down with no warning, and that is why it was so easily repealed. How many other people across the floor went through what I went through on Monday?
“Whom I feel bad for,” Mrs. Rice says, “are the people who completed training last week. They went through all the old training and immediately need to be retaught on how to perform.
“What we need from all of you is to be the pinnacle of professionalism. Every customer deserves to be treated with respect, even if the person refuses to do the same with you." Her eyes settle heavily on me. "As long as you are doing your job correctly, you can have the satisfaction of knowing that everything the customer says is wrong.” She is smiling as though this will actually stop some of the nervous breakdowns that wave across the floor.
One tall girl with flowing blonde hair asks, “So we just have to sit there and take their abuse?” I forget her name, but she is young—maybe 19 or 20 at the most—she joined the team last month.
Mrs. Rice looks at her for a moment, and says, “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all, not at all.” She looks down at her papers again, shuffles through them, and then returns her tiny, bird-like eyes to us. “If a call is too much to handle, put the customer on hold and get a manager over to you right away. Managers have the authority to disconnect a call; so if they are having problems with a customer, they can end the call right then and there."
Her head clicks from person to person like it's on clockwork and gears, head snapping around the table, resting momentarily on each rep, as if it's counting down to detonation. “Now, there are some very important things to remember. You can’t be polite enough. You can’t say ‘please’ enough, can’t say ‘thank you enough,’ can’t say ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am’ enough, not enough. Let’s have this as professional and polite as possible. Remember, the most professional collectors make the most money.”
“Every call,” she continues, “must be ended with, ‘Thank you for using SpectraCom.’ This is the new policy.” That’s no different from the old policy. “And also, you need to keep checking with the customer. This is very important, keep checking back. If you are being monitored, and you let the customer stay on hold for longer than two minutes without coming back on the line, you will get a zero on your review.
“Now, the changes aren’t all about what you need to do,” she says with a little smirk. “We have made some changes for your comfort." She claps her meaty little hands together and rubs them furiously until I think flame is going to shoot from between her red little palms. "I’m passing around a copy of the new and improved dress code.” She picks up a stack of papers in hands trembling with excitement, and gives them to the young boy in the grey hoodie at the end of the table. He takes one and passes it along without giving it the briefest glance. “As you can see, you are now allowed to wear jeans seven days a week, and we have added shorts to the Saturday and Sunday dress code. That will be nice with the summer months coming up. T-shirts are still acceptable on only Friday through Sunday though, so keep that in mind.”
Don't ask me why it's mandatory to dress up for work in this call center. Our customers don't see us, so who cares what I’m wearing when I take a call? My balls could be hanging out of my pants and the customers would never know unless I told them. For that matter, I could tell them my balls were hanging out, and the customer would never know. Adding to that, what makes a weekend any different than your average Monday through Thursday? How many customers have called in and said, ‘I was going to pay my bill in full, but I could hear the representative wearing a Misfits T-shirt, on a Wednesday, no less!’ Are we going to have to become a phone-sex line? ‘Hi, my name is Rubin, I’m 6'4", wearing green khakis, and a black long sleeve shirt. Would you like to pay your bill?’ It makes no sense, but we have to pretend it’s the law.
“Now, does anyone have any questions?” Laura asks, standing up and looking around at each of our shining faces. “Any questions?”
My ever-loquacious teammates look at each other, but say nothing.
“Well, all right then, let’s get back on the phones and get professional! Get professional!”
We all stand up together in slow motion, each looking for someone else to be the first out the door. I wait and walk out with Kurt and Chloe. When we are out of earshot, I say, “Please kiss my ass, thank you.”
Kurt laughs and says, “Your situation makes a lot more sense now, doesn’t it?”
“They are going to be firing a lot of people,” Chloe says. “It’s like they want to restaff the entire office. I don’t see myself making it through this. I’m not about to sit and kiss some bitch’s ass.”
“I’ll be the first,” I say. “They’ve already started on me, and I have no intention of changing my ways either. I’m not about to let some piece-of-shit customer walk all over me. Shall we take bets on how long I last?”
No comments:
Post a Comment