Sarah comes over and taps me on the shoulder. “Rubin, could you log out and come talk to me, please?”
“Should I bring my things?” I ask, semi-hopefully.
“Just yourself.” She stands up straight as an arrow and crosses her arms, lips screwed up in a wicked smile, deep purple-tipped fingers drumming on her elbows.
Fuck.
I hang up on my customer, who is screaming about something, log off, and meet her at her desk.
“That was fast,” she says, looking up from her paperwork.
“I was between calls,” I say nonchalantly. “What’s wrong?”
She shuffles through a small pile of papers, pursing her lips. The disappointment hangs around her like a cloud. Finally, she looks up at me again and sighs. “We have a problem.” Slowly, she pulls out her desk and says, “I need to talk to you in the monitoring room.”
“Bad call?” I coo. Which of the monstrosities of the last week did they catch me on? Did I hang up on someone? Did I threaten? What, pray tell, did I do?
I follow Sarah back to CONFERENCE ROOM 1 and she takes her customary seat in the high-backed captain’s chair, leaving me in the little hardwood seat that forces me to hunch forward submissively. I twist my neck up at a painful, unnatural angle to look her in the eyes, arms crossed on my stomach.
“Do you remember Mr. Adam Mead?” she asks me when we are sat.
This time, it really draws a blank. “No clue.”
“You talked to him last week,” she says with a sigh. “He called in, saying he was owed a credit. There was nothing on the account saying he was owed a credit, and you argued this point with him. You tried like hell to collect on the money he claimed he didn’t owe.”
“My job.”
“Your job last week, before the professionalism. SpectraCom was listening and said you were too hard on the customer. The call lasted ten minutes. They are saying you should have just sent him to Customer Service and been done with it.” She sighs again. “Collection isn’t our main concern anymore; we need to facilitate the needs of the customer.” She shakes her head and can’t look at me. “They are watching you, Rubin. They want to bring everyone in line. This guy went to Customer Service and they gave him the credit. SpectraCom is saying that he went through too much trouble to get it.”
“Did this create another round of ‘let’s fire the guy that collects a lot of money for us?’” I ask gleefully.
“Not this time,” she says. “They were not happy, but they decided not to be so drastic this time around. You are just receiving written disciplinary action. We are putting a note in your file, and if there are any further incidents, you will face formal disciplinary action.”
“Is SpectraCom going to spank me?”
She can’t repress a chuckle this time. “No, SpectraCom isn’t going to spank you. They are going to start being harder on you though. I’m not kidding. They are watching you. You got their attention and it will take a long time to get them to calm down again. You need to be very careful.” She turns away from me and opens an application on the computer. “Shall we listen to the call?”
Before I can say yes or no, she plays the recording.
“Hi, thank you for calling SpectraCom, my name is Rubin, can I have... please verify your name and address please... All right, Mr. Mead, I’m showing a balance of $237.45, would you like to pay that by check or credit card today?”
“Check the notes, dipshit, I don’t owe that.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Mead. I show your account has remained unpaid for three months now, you are $185.24 past due, and have current charges of...”
“That’s wrong you illiterate little fuck!”
“Sir, first off, could I please ask that you don’t interrupt me. Second, if you feel there was a miscalculation, I would be happy to add up the numbers...”
“I don’t owe that! My bill is wrong! I deserve credit, asshole. Customer Service told me that! They gave it to me!”
“Actually, Mr. Mead, I’m looking at your account, and I don’t see any such action being taken by Customer Service. From what I’m showing, you do in fact owe this money. I would be happy to help you take care of that right now by check or credit card...”
“Listen closely and listen carefully you dumb little fuck. I’ll try my best to speak slowly, because I’m sure you didn’t graduate from high school. I’m not paying that bill. I don’t owe it. Do you want me to spell it out for you?”
“Actually, Mr. Mead, as we just determined, you do owe this money. Why don’t we go ahead and set things right by check or credit card over the phone...”
“I’ve seen enough,” I say in disgust.
“This is an example of the old way of doing things. A month ago, you would have been applauded for the tenacity on this call. We are doing things in a whole new vein now, Rubin. You have to treat the customer with respect even if they don’t show it to you. I know it’s a hard change, but I don’t want to lose you, Rubin. You need to adapt.”
“Did you look at the date?” I ask her furiously, still not looking back. “A month ago, I would have been applauded. Two weeks ago, I would have been applauded. Look at the date of the call.” I cross my arms and feel my hair start to catch fire. “So they want to punish me for doing things the old way?”
“Holy shit!” she gasps.
“Yeah, two weeks ago, I didn’t know there was a new way of doing things. I talked to this guy before the professionalism change. They can’t punish me further for something that happened before there was a problem.”
“This has got to be a mistake,” she says breathlessly. “They can’t do this. This is wrong.”
“But they will, won’t they?”
“I’ll get this reversed. That’s not fair. This must have just been an oversight.”
“We both know that’s not true,” I whisper, looking down at my lap. “I’m not going to last two weeks, am I?” I stand up and put my hand on the doorknob. “Should I just go home right now and save everyone some time?”
“No, Rubin, we’re going to fight this one,” she assures me. “Just go back and get to work. I’ll talk to my bosses and see what I can do. You’re right, they can’t punish you for this.”
“But they will,” I say and walk out the door. Just go back to work. That sounds like the logical plan of attack. Go back, make some money while they conspire to fire me. I fall back into my chair and stare at my headset for a few seconds.
Kurt mutes his line and asks, “What happened? Did they fire you?” He unmutes and says, “Yes.. Yes, ma’am.” Mutes. “What did they catch you doing?” Unmutes. “Fifty-two thirty-seven, that’s right. That’s the bare minimum to have your local service restored.” Mutes. “Do you have to leave?”
“No,” I say despondently. “Not yet.” I look over at him after a moment. “It’s pretty fucked up, what they want to do.” I look up at the clock. “Let’s go on break.”
Unmutes. “No, ma’am, there isn’t any way to get it turned on today. We have to receive that payment before we can restore service—which, even if you pay by credit card, takes up to 24 hours.” Mutes. “We’ve been here only an hour. You want to go on break already?” Unmutes. “Yes, that takes a further 48 business hours to restore local service.”
“They are trying to fuck me in the ass with no lube,” I tell him. “I’ll take a break whenever I want and for as long as I want.”
“No, ma’am, there isn’t anyone who can get it on today. You need to pay your bill first.” Mutes. “So, you’re trying to get them to fire you?” Unmutes. “No, ma’am, not even a supervisor.”
“I’ve reached the end of my rope.”
“All right, ma’am, hold on.” Mutes. “Now she wants a supervisor.”
I hold out my hand, and he slaps his headset into it. I put it on and signal him to unmute. “Hello?”
“Hello?” says an older woman’s voice.
“Hi, ma’am, my name is Rubin, and I think you should die.” I shut off his machine to stop any recording. “So much for that,” I say, tossing his headset on his desk. “Now let’s go.”
We walk back to the break room and I refill my water bottle while Kurt buys himself a cheeseburger from the vending machine. After nuking it, he sits down across from me and asks, “So what happened? What did Sarah have to talk to you about?”
I sigh and let out a low growl. “You’re not going to believe this shit,” I snap. “They are trying to nail me for not being professional during a call.”
“Wow, go figure,” he says sarcastically. “You?”
“I’d have no problem with it if it were one of my more recent calls,” I say, sipping my water. I look around the nearly empty break room. One of the televisions, the farther one, has CertainlyNotNews! playing with the sound off. The other has ESPN with the sound way up. Somehow telling, really. I can’t decide which one we’re worse off listening to.
“This call was two weeks ago. They are going back to hit me for calls I had before I was in any trouble, and before the rather drastic policy change. I wish I had some booze on me.” I look around again. “We have to go to the liquor store on lunch. I can’t believe this shit. We’ll pick up Doc Filth and have a liquid lunch.” I stare blankly at Kurt. “Maybe I should go alone; it may take longer than an hour.”
“They can’t do that to you,” he protests. “That’s ridiculous!”
“They can, and they will, and they are.” I sigh again to show my disgust. “Sarah’s fighting it, but it’s not going to fucking matter.”
“Watch the language!” says a passing manager, coming into the break room. I flip him off as he approaches the coffee machine without looking back at me.
“I’m sure it will get reversed,” Kurt consoles. “They can’t do that; it’s just wrong.”
“Everything is wrong with this company. That doesn’t mean they won’t do it. You’ve seen the horrible shit they’ve done.” I exhale hard through clenched teeth as I shake my head. “Remember what they did to Callie? They fired her for avoiding calls. The whole time, she was doing 300-400 calls a day, while the rest of us were doing only one-or-fucking-two hundred.”
“Watch the language!” says the same manager going back out the doors. I flip him off again over my shoulder.
“You know, I was trying to give them legitimate reasons to fire me, and they still need to be all shady about it. God, I hate this fucking company!”
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