Stamped: October 2nd, 2005 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: complaint dept., work.
Similarly tagged posts
- Girl Power – Renewed, Revitalized and Going Digital
- The Six Thirty Date
- A Momentary Lapse In Judgement
- Lying To The Girl You Fuck. Fa la la la la
- Solution Blonde
- Kiss Me I'm A "Stewardess"
- OK, She Fainted. Can We Move On Yet??
- Aghast at Abercrombie & Fitch
- Hold The Dirty Talk If You Want A Piece Of Me
- Confucius Says...
- Please Don’t Be Nice
- Reader 'D' -- This One's For You
- losing my patience and my hard-on
- My Milanese Life Obliterated
- Man And The Forbidden Pussy
- My Waiting Room Epiphany
- Jerk Off For Weight Loss?? My Ass!!
- To The Guy Who Almost Broke My Rose-Colored Glasses
- my online dating man list
- At Least I'm Cute
- An Open Letter To The Bitch Who Recently Waxed My Brows
- I (am falling out of) Love (with) NY
- Under heart-shaped pressure
- GA
- Oh yeah? Fuck you too.
- Breaking News: Stupidity Abounds
- On leaving well enough alone
- those aren't freckles
- Intelligent Design?
- How are you? No really, how are you?
- Eternal Sunshine of Jenna's Mind
- Lo's Weekly Rant: I Call Bullshit.
- Lo's Church of Unattainable Men: Part Deux
- Case Study: 1935 Revisited
- Baby Jane gets laid
- Vagina, I Curse Thee
- Children are the future (aka I think my ovaries just shrivelled up and fell off)
- Give me your best O face
- The Disgruntled Worker's Checklist
- Lo's Weekly Sob Fest
- A Girl's Best Friend
- Lo's Weekly....Whatever.
- Top Five People Screwing Up Girlspokia
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- To My Lovely Neighbor
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Yes, You Do Look Fat in That
- A debate yet to be debated
- Odd Female Behavior: The Bachelorette Party
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Some days it doesn't pay to even get out of bed
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Procrastination Wednesday
- I Don't Get It
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Summertime Blues
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Subway Rage
- Speaking of Porn...
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- Lo's Weekly Rant
- How (not) to...
- Happy Valentine's Day Bitches
- Round Two...
- Girlspoke Dumping Service™
- Scratching the Surface
- To be single or not to be single
- The 135th Post, Hoss
- Today's Post Will Have the Most Insulting Comments Ever
- Mr. New York, Wherever You Are
- We are now entering the Doldrums
- Spank me, I'm a bitch
- Time flies when you're having imaginary sex in the back room.
- Put that on a Post-It, bitch.
- Complaint Department
- Server Issues
- Confession of the Week
- Road Rage
- Not in My Panties
- Oy, My Tits!
- Ex-Girlfriend for a Day
- And That, My Friend, Is All There Is
- Bad Week, Part II
- Horizontally Speaking, He's at His Best
- Possessiveness
- Dates of Yore
- Bitch Has Claws And An Enema
- My Ill-Shapen Malformed Ears
- Baby You Can Drive My Car
- My Mother Found My Website*
- Riddle Me This
- Zip Me Up, Zip Me Down
- Dreamin' a Dream of You
- the Alphabet can Be so Cruel
- All by myself...don't wanna be..all by myself
- ♫ Won't you be my neighbor ♫
- Confession of the Week
Here are some of the most common conversations I had at my now defunct temp job.
Me: Thank you for calling blah blah, I’ll just be taking a few details…blah blah
Caller: Wait. Are you a real person or am I talking to a machine?
Me: I’m a real person, Sir. Can I take your surname please?
Me (interior monologue): just because I have a robotic job, does not mean that I’m a robot. But thanks for reminding me of the mundane, repetitive nature of my 9 to 5
Midway through conversation
Caller: Are you from America?
Me: Yes. Can I take your postcode please?
Caller: Oh! Where in America?
Me: Chicago.
Caller: Hey hey, the Windy City/Al Capone/Michael Jordon, right?
Me: Yes. Can I please have your postcode, sir?
Caller: Wait. Where am I calling?
Me: The UK.
Caller: (with confused tone). Oh. Um, okay. But you’re from…
Me: (interrupting) don’t let the accent fool you sir, can you confirm your address for me please?
Me: (interior monologue) I know it’s terrible to think that not only did an American sneak past customs and enter into your precious little island, but has also managed to get a job, that could be going to a well-deserved 15 year old Brit girl with 2 kids at home.
Although all that is not nearly as bad as the caller who did not engage me in a conversation on my nationality but did audibly whisper the word “imperialist” during a pause in the call. I guess he’s still sore that America broke away from the British Empire…?
More often than not I would get men that wanted to take me out on dates, or worse, men that simply wanted me to “say their name” again. Just imagine a creepy English man huskily whispering “ mmm, my name sounds so sexy when you say it. Say it again”. You can practically hear the denim around their crotch become taut with their erection when I coolly reply _ “ Can I please have your postcode sir”.
Last 5 posts by Betty
The perils of an American call centre girl in England
Next time I think I’d tell them I was a machine if they asked. How funny if they believed you.
Ha, ha… you said “postcode”
I flirt all the time with guys at call centers. Especially collection agencies. I haven’t paid a bill in ages and I have the cable tv gold package.
(It’s not true, I’m lying, but I try to flirt. That is, until they call me Ma’am.)
I hate talking to people in call centers here in the States. Whenever I spell anything that has an “r” in it, the conversation goes like this:
me: no, it’s “r”.
them: “i” for Iguana?
me: no, “r”. for Rabbit.
them: Rabbit doesn’t start with an “i”
me: you’re right, it doesn’t. it starts with an “R”.
them: are you from Boston?
me: no.
them: the Bronx?
me: NO. i’m australian.
them: really? no way. what language do you guys speak down there?
at this point i’m ready to commit suicide by jumping out of my office building.
Some thoughts:
1) When I first looked at the title of your post I thought it said, “Call Girl Centre.” I was immediately intrigued but then looked more closely and saw my error.
2) I felt a great sense of “all is right with the world” when I saw you spelled centre the way you did.
3) To a degree, I can sympathize. I use to answer phones at a radio station, of all places. The high point was when I had an irate caller insisting I tell him what temperature to set his oven at for shepherd’s pie … like I would know. The capper was when my boss told me what temperature to set an oven at and implied I was a moron for not knowing this.
Lexie, I feel your pain. I’d have the same problem with anyone from northern Ireland.
me:So that’s i for igloo.
NI: Yeah, that’s right, i.
me:For igloo
NI: no, no, i for apple.
me:ah right. i for apple. thanks.
This is my first visit to your site and I felt guilty upon reading bout your feeling when asked whether you are a robot because I have done that numerous of times already though through live chat. I am a I.T. grad and my fav subject is artificial intelligence and with this mentality the first thing I asked on a live chat is “Are you a robot?” Gosh it may not be through phone but now I begin to wonder how these people feel.
Thanks for that insight, I will be more sensitive next time.