Telemarketers

Most people have worked at jobs that they can’t stand, hate or decide to kill themselves over. Most of the time it’s telemarketers, mainly because most of them are bat shit crazy. Alas, the point I’m trying to make is that, telemarketers probably deserve it. Who decides to become a telemarketer, that’s the dumbest job on the planet!

So I applied to work as a call service representative (telemarketer) in the summer after my first year at college. My brother Thomas already worked there, I was actually surprised he had a job, these people must hire anybody! He put in a good word for me and I got the job. It was undoubtedly the worst job I’ve ever had. I worked for a company that did trouble shooting for Boost Mobile, a pay as you go phone company. At the time, the best phone they had was the Razor by Motorola. The service for these phones sucked giant walrus balls and the cards you loaded money on for these phones were always crapped out. Now I understand why so many telemarketers kill themselves around Christmas time, its because that’s when cell phone sales are highest.

The only time a customer was ever happy was when they had just bought their phone and called in to activate it. All other phone conversations were a complete mess. To make matters worse, our call center number was almost the same as the number you call for phone sex with women named Candy and Dallas. Once, I picked up to answer a call and all I could hear were people having hardcore sex in the background. I proceeded to ask the guy if he needed help with anything. He continued to just breathe into the phone, after a minute or so I told him that things were getting creepy and I’d have to hang up. Honestly, it had resembled a few dates I’d been on before so I wasn’t so surprised by it. He asked me to do things with my butt that weren’t natural, I would have talked a lot longer with him but they record the phone conversations. Also, I needed another pay check to afford all the alcohol I’d be drinking the next few weeks. I asked the man if I could help him with anything again, to which he replied, “Yeah! you can help me jack off.” I replied, “Sir, I can hang up.” And I did.

Most of the people who buy pay as you go phones are too poor to afford regular cell phones, or they’re just pimps who need a second phone. I’ve had women ask me out on dates, homeless people ask for extra minutes or where I work so they can bum a cigarette, and a guy named Carl piss me off with every ounce of his energy. Carl was a white male in his early sixties who knew absolutely nothing about technology. He was frustrated with his life because his daughters no longer kept in touch with him and I imagine he shit himself on occasion, it’s the only explanation I can come up with to why he was such an asshole. 

As soon as he heard my voice on the phone he demanded to speak to a supervisor, when this happens we put them on hold for two minutes and wait for the person next to us to get off their call. The girl who sat next to me was a nineteen year old who’s soul purpose was to go to raves and meet black guys who spend all their money fixing up their car. When she described guys she was into, she didn’t describe their features, but instead the features of their car, “Oh, I really like this guy!” she would say. “He is really nice and his Pontiac has polished chrome rims, two dvd players and a bad ass sound system.” She would go on about other stuff, but I didn’t follow well because I didn’t know what torch or nausea or what V6 meant. Isn’t that a vegetable drink? I assume she was always on drugs because she would dance in her chair as if she was actually at a rave, twirling her arms in and out til I got dizzy or until she went to the bathroom to vomit.

My friend got on the phone with the man, she told him that she really appreciated him waiting and that I would be more than able to assist him. As she put me back on the phone, I could hear him screaming like a banshee, mid-air as she handed over the head set. He was upset about his phone not having any minutes left on it. I told the man that if you don’t use them within 90 days they expire. The man only had about 20 min left anyways. I offered to fix the problem and give him the 20 min back. That could have been the end. He cussed me out right and left. He called me a faggot, which I only allow in the heat of sexual passion, and usually only black guys. The conversation lasted another hour; we had a cuss word limit of three, which he passed within the first three seconds of the call. I could have hung up but I knew he’d just call back and get me again. I learned about his daughters and his dogs, he had diabetes and he didn’t like Blacks, Hispanics, Gays, short people, young people, and most of all his ex wife for giving him the phone to begin with. I decided that day that I would quit. The girl who sat next to me said we should get hammered drunk before work and take all of our calls anyways. She never showed up after that day, no one knows what ever happened to her. I called into work for the next two weeks, I eventually ran out of money after being gone for a while. I knew if I were to come back I would need a fantastic story. I told them that my mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and that I was gone for two weeks with her because she had to have someone to drive her to the hospital. I worked half of that day then walked out. Telemarketing can suck my balls! I’d rather be homeless!