Our clients routinely swear and curse at us. For every sale we make there are at least fifteen failures. Call after call, hour after hour, we are confronted with abusive swearing and disparaging denials. Our only break is to get the occasional disapproving feedback from our managers. Most people don’t last long in a call centre. I’d say the average employee lasts 3 months. As I mentioned during my self- description I possess no pride, so the job no longer affects me. For every person, like myself who has been here over 3 years, there are a dozen people that didn’t last three days. They are the lucky ones, the ones too quick to get sucked into a shitty situation. Those who stay often lose their vitality at PH communications. I’ve seen it all too many times before; we sell our souls for a paycheck. I have nothing against the selling of one’s soul, I just think that you should get a good price for it.
I grew thick skin. I had too. The rejections, the cursing, the yelling, it all rolls off me like water. The money is alright. I earn in four hours what most of my other friends get in a full eight hour shift. It is the only reason I haven’t quit.
A common tactic in all call centres is constant change. It unnerves the employees and keeps us on our toes. After every eight week cycle, we are all uprooted and relocated to another work location in our warehouse like office. It’s designed so that we never get too chummy with the people that we work around. The theory being that if we get too friendly with our peers, we’ll spend more time talking to each other than on the phone making sales. I can see their logic. The flaw is that we are all sales people and naturally extroverted. Within a week after each upheaval, we are all cozy with our new, surrounding co-workers. The cycle continues and continues, until eventually we know just about everyone. The result is a culture similar to high school; it is filled with gossip, affairs and drama.
I waited patiently to be seated across from Mila and yesterday it finally happened. I was quick to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Eric.”
“I’m Mila; it’s nice to meet you.”
Many of my peers at work are university students. They carry their text books with them and study between calls and during breaks. I observe Mila’s book and ask, “What are you studying?”
“I’m in Criminology at SFU.”
“Really, are you studying to be cop or a crook?”
“Neither,” she lets out a small chuckle. Which is a good sign, she is susceptible to my limited wit. “I want to join CSIS after I graduate.”
I read aloud the title of her textbook, “Mass Murder; that sounds wholesome and entertaining.”
“Oh it is. A perfect read for working here.”
My turn to let out a chuckle. Let her know that I am susceptible to her charms. “Again I feel that I should worry about your future choices, working here can make you go postal.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” she says.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Mila and I have several mutual acquaintances. She has grown quite chummy with my good pal Baljinder. Bal is everyone’s buddy, he is perhaps the most popular person in the call centre.
Through Bal and several other peers, I have been able to do my homework. I know that Mila is from Winnipeg and moved here two years ago in order to attend Simon Fraser University, one of the top schools in Canada in the field of Criminology. She came here with her on-again, off-again boyfriend. As far as I knew, there were currently off-again. If I were a true player, she would be in a vulnerable position. In truth, I was just curious to meet her; she seemed to be my kind.
So far the conversation had gone pretty much on script (I have been planning our first conversation ever since the moment I first saw her). The banter had been polite, somewhat clever and focused on her interests. I also managed to maintain eye contact, which with Mila was extremely hard to do.
We worked for a while and I caught her looking my way a few times. Close to our first and only break, I asked her if she played chess. This was a true gambit, because I hadn’t known the answer to my question.
She explained that her father had taught her at a young age but that she hadn’t played in a while.
“Maybe we could play sometime,” I offered.
“Yeah, that would be fun.”
Wow, that tactic had never worked before. Usually when I ask someone if they played chess, they would answer, ‘no’. That would be the end of that topic of conversation, and they would know that I was a nerd. The tactic’s goal was to seek out a fellow nerd, and finally it has worked. Maybe there is a future for us. I have a feeling that we have a lot in common.
I let her read her textbook during our break and later said good night to her before rushing home. I was going drinking with Bal and some other friends. I was tempted to invite her, but resisted. No point pushing things, I have eight weeks to cultivate our friendship.