Confessions of a Call Girl (Part 2)

XII

Dedicated to my truly beloved customers.

Here we go again.

To be very honest with you, I’ve been quite excited myself to write this part and I’ve been looking forward to it since I set foot in a call centre for the first time. As I promised, I’ve come up with a couple of situations customer service advisors have to deal with every day. Obviously, all names are changed and the dialogues are not exact reconstructions of the calls. Nevertheless, bear in mind that I've tried to stick to the truth as closely as possible.

First of all, you will need to get into the mood of a CS advisor in order to feel the emotions better. Try and imagine yourself in front of a computer, with your headset on, waiting for your first call at 7.30 a.m., with a coffee mug in your hand, but not for long - and there it is - at 7.31, there is a beep signalling a call and a squeaky recorded voice tells you in which language you have to make your opening. You have learnt to just go for it and to hope for the best.

Let’s start off with the type of customer who will freak you out for a moment because they will intrude on your comfort zone. Who knows, maybe this is the best strategy to get the attention of the CS advisor. "Mr Creeps" are customers with a strange sense of humour (and they are mostly male, without intending to be sexist) but they are also usually quite harmless. The best way to deal with Mr Creep is to ignore any weird suggestions or attempts to flirt. You ready? Here we go...

wtf?

“Hello, my name is Christine, how can I help you today?”

(The voice of the customer is dead serious, he says this quickly and without emotion) “Do you wanna fuck me?”

(Christine is in shock for a few seconds) “No, thank you.”

(The customer does not change his tone) “Well, you know, I am getting ads for erotic premium services on my phone and I want them to stop. Now.”

(Christine is relieved as this is not where she thought it was going – the customer just wanted attention) “Ah ok, now I understand. In this case I can't help you, unfortunately. If you provided a certain service with your phone number, you allowed the company to send you those adverts, which means that you need to check where you get the ads from and tell them to stop sending them.”

(The customer is silent for a few seconds, then says) “OK, I'll do that then. Good bye.”

(Christine, apparently even more relieved that the customer got rid of himself so quickly): “Have a good day, Sir, good bye.”

It's quite rare that calls end so quickly but sometimes you have your lucky day. Oh, your headset is beeping and there is another creepy customer for you:

he's back

“Hi there, my name is Martin, what can I do for you today?”

“Hello, my name is Georg Huber and I’m a great customer of yours.” (Customers often call themselves great in the hope that they will get something for free. Martin, an experienced CS advisor, will, however, successfully ignore this suggestion) “Hello, Mr Huber. How can I help you?”

“I wanna know how much I pay for calls to Austria?”

“With your tariff you will pay £££ per minute to landlines and £££ to mobile phones.”

(Mr Huber sounds delighted) “Alright, I’m always calling my father on his landline, that’s a good deal.”

(Martin now tries to connect with the customer which is part of the company policy. This could be an incentive for Mr Huber to call back in the future because he feels that the CS agents care about him) “Judging by your accent, you are Austrian yourself, is that right, Mr Huber?”

(Mr Huber sounds even more delighted and proud about his nationality) “Yes indeed.”

(Martin now sets the connection point) “I am from Austria too. Where exactly are you from?”

“I am from Braunau, do you know that?”

(Yes, here it is, the awkward moment. For those who are not familiar with WWII – Braunau is a village in Austria where Hitler was born. As Martin is an Austrian he is aware of this fact) “Erm, yes, who WOULDN’T know that?”

(Mr Huber sounds very proud) “That’s right. It’s our Fuhrer’s real capital! (giggling) But Herr Hitler preferred Linz, yes he did.”

(Martin is speechless for a few seconds. It’s not clear whether Mr Huber is joking and Martin now tries to get rid of the customer as quickly as possible) “Erm, right. Is that all, Mr H… erm… Mr Huber?”

(Mr Huber sounds indeed very content, having, in his opinion, spoken with a fellow fanatic) “Actually, yes…”

(Martin is happy and seizes the opportunity straight away) “OK, then thanks for calling. Bye.”

Let’s now turn to a slightly nicer aspect of customer service. I would like to point out that about 5 % of customers calling will actually put a smile on your face. Even though it is mostly seniors who sometimes just want to chat for a bit, there are some young nice people out there who will appreciate what you do for them and will treat you like a human person. 

This is when a CS advisor turns into some kind of Sigmund Freud and listens to adventurous stories of the past, heart-breaking dramas of today and might have to give tips for the unknown future. Sometimes we are also social workers, trying to console weeping and desperate customers. In a few cases I have been able to learn useful things from customers myself. Once I was even offered cheap accommodation in a gorgeous holiday town in Croatia (what a great way to fill your apartments!)

I've had a few customers who would get through to colleagues of mine and they would tell them to say hi to me personally; and rarely, some people would just call to tell us how they love our service! There are a lot of ways to describe those kinds of customers but I will, for now, call them "cutie pies". The following dialogue will show you only a short version of a nice conversation that could sometimes take up to an hour.

good old times

"Hello, I'm Maria, how can I make you smile today?"

(A fragile, insecure voice of an elderly woman says) "Oh hello, my name is Edith Ryan, I'm sorry to disturb you ... I have a small problem. Maybe you'll be able to help me?"

(Maria is happy about Mrs Ryan's comment about taking up her time and will ignore "the small problem" as there is never a "small problem" when customers call) "Of course I will try, Mrs Ryan."

(Mrs Ryan sounds relieved) "Thank you. I won't keep you very long, I promise. So, I've been trying to call my daughter in Brazil but I haven't been able to reach her since yesterday. I called her from the fixed phone and this worked but you know, it's really expensive."

"Right. I will have a look into it, Mrs Ryan. I can see your number on my display, could you please confirm your date of birth?"

(Mrs Ryan seems taken aback) "Oh! What do you need that for?"

"It's only because of the data protection law, so nobody else will get infomation about your account."

"Ah, I see. This is reasonable. I was born on the 12th November 1936. I'm an old bat, aren't I?" (laughs)

(Maria is laughing as well) "Oh no, Mrs Ryan. You only get wiser with age! Is the number *** the number of your daughter?"

(Mrs Ryan is surprised) "Yes! How did you know that?!"

"It's just that you call this number very often. What happens exactly when you call your daughter?"

"Well, there is a 'beep' and then a young man tells me something in French or some other exotic language I don't understand."

"Mhm, this sounds like we have to transfer this issue to our technical department and they will probably reroute the line. It may take up to 48 hours, unfortunately, before we get back to you, is that OK?"

"Of course, if the problem will be fixed and I can talk to my daughter again. Thank you very much, Ms ... what did you say was your name?"

"Maria."

"Oh, this is funny! My daughter's name is also Maria!"

"What a coincidence, Mrs Ryan. It is a beautiful name!” (giggling)

"Yes, indeed. My daughter Maria has been living in Brasilia, that is, the capital of Brazil, for 25 years! You know, we talk at least for an hour every week so I'm glad your tariff is so cheap. We didn't have this when I was young, oh no!"

"That must have been difficult, Mrs Ryan."

"Yes, but it was also nice to send letters and ... oh, how much I longed to receive my sweetheart's responses, ha ha!"

(Maria is touched) "How lovely. Well, I guess today the pace of life has become faster."

"Yes, you're taking the words right out of my mouth. And... But I'm sorry, Maria, I'm stealing your precious time. You have better things to do than listening to me reminiscing about the past."

"Not at all, it was my pleasure, Mrs Ryan. I will call you back when I get a response from the technicians."

"Wonderful, my dear. I just wanted to say that you are a very competent young lady. Have a successful day, Maria."

(Maria is now in heaven) "Thank you so much, Mrs Ryan, have a lovely day yourself. Bye!"

There is a wide variety of customers, especially in a call centre that sells SIM cards for cheap international calls. There will be 80-year-old veterans who know more about IT than you do, who work with tablets and "of course I've got an email address". On the other hand you'll get completely naive customers who will ask you to install internet on their phone but don't even know what MB means. There is another type of customer who'll stick to you like cling film as they call back every other day. Usually they can already be recognized by their significant piercing voice. "Cling films" are usually to be dealt with in a certain way and you get more experienced with time. I was always sorry for the poor devils who just started working in the call centre - who don't know yet that Mr X only wants to top up a SIM card of one of his three wives and that Ms Y needs to shout at you for about five minutes before you are allowed to speak. But I guess learning through trial and error is the same in every job, right?

This is the end of the second part. I have the impression that this one has been quite a positive one; however, I'm not finished yet. You will not be spared the dungeons I was talking about in my first article; in other words: the hell of customer service. Bear with me, for the third and last part will follow soon.

Confessions of a Call Girl (Part 1)

XI

Dedicated to the wonderful people I have worked with.

It’s time to clear up a certain myth once and for all. Let me ask you a question: How often do you call a customer service hotline in order to solve a problem? Once a month? Three times a year? Every now and then?

I don’t blame you. To be very honest with you, there is not a single person who wants to call customer services. I do recall my last own experience with a hotline back in Austria which ended in a small explosion on my part. Let’s not forget the particularly nasty queue that one must endure for about 10 minutes before having even explained one’s problem. Just imagine a smoky woman’s voice purring the same sentence all over again: “Unfortunately, all our customer service agents are busy. Please hold the line – we will be with you in a moment.”

I don’t get irritated by the fact that EVERY agent is ALWAYS busy but by the fact that my ears are exposed to the crappiest music that has ever been created. While I am listening I am usually thinking about ways of killing the musical programmer and I then decide for the best option, which is, naturally, to push him or her from the roof of St Paul’s Cathedral.

When I have finally reached the customer service, I am transferred from one department to the next, just to find out that the responsible person has (regrettably) gone on holiday. What is worse, I am then consoled that the system has “apparently made a mistake” and the agent would “quickly” look at the issue. Hours later, I am asking myself whether the agent will have returned from his or her walk to the kitchen or will have finished the discussion about yesterday’s champion’s league match soon.

Oh! Don’t tell me you’ve had similar experiences?

Those stories seem actually familiar to you?

You feel like a victim of these hotlines; however, you are dependent on them?

Well, there you go, sit down and listen to the confessions of an actual call girl. In this article, I will present to you the other side of the coin and unfold the unvarnished truth about the work of a customer service advisor. You think you already know what’s going on?

I can assure you that you have not got the tiniest clue. Dive with me into the world of the most extreme emotions; of the regular ups and downs that reach from London Dungeon to the top of the Shard. I will open your eyes and change your attitude about call centres forever.

Let’s first clarify which people work in call centres. In fact, it is a special microcosm. People who work here have come from various backgrounds. Some of them are in a transition period because they have to somehow finance their degree or because they have moved to a different city or, the most common one, because they have just graduated. Anyway, there is no other way for them than getting the first job that comes along in order to gain some time and money to find something better. Most of them will indeed move on.

Some of them will, however, become like spiders that stick to their webs as they either get used to work or they simply can’t find anything more challenging. No wonder in these economically difficult times.

There are rumours that a few people work in a call centre voluntarily and fully believe in what they are doing. Honestly, I have never met anyone that weird, but I guess you can find all kinds of people on this planet.

You will now ask yourself the question: what do I need in order to work in a call centre? Let me quickly rephrase that question: What do I need in order to survive in a call centre?

I’ll give you some bullet points to explain what I mean:

• 1      Being tough. Sorry, you won’t get very far if you are a fragile and sensitive person. If you are, however, only someone who takes things kind of personally, you will definitely grow from the experience. The rule everybody here knows is that customers will always speak their mind. Why shouldn’t they? They feel extremely safe on the other end of the line as there is a great distance between them and the advisor.
• 2     Coffee. I have never had so much coffee in my life, not even when studying. In fact, I have adapted to the obligatory cappuccino a day in order to bring myself in a relatively acceptable mood. This is what obviously turns you into an addict and I presume I can speak for others when I say that a call centre does not help when you try to give up smoking.
• 3     Enough sleep. Fatigue is the advisor’s death. Your mood will deteriorate with every call and you’ll simply wish to die.
• 4     Humour! I will not believe anybody who claims that they have been on the phone for eight or more hours acting seriously and have not handed in their notice within two weeks. Just think about Tim and Dawn in the legendary British TV series “The Office” (and they didn’t even work in a call centre, but a normal office).
• 5    (Strongly connected to 4) Mates. Just being colleagues won’t help dealing with perpetually frustrating phases. If you become friends, however, it might be a long lasting friendship with the occasional binge in order to get over difficult times.

Right. This has been a small overview of customer service advisors who you have probably dealt with before. Imagine your personal call girl/boy slouching - pardon me - sitting in front of the computer, with their headsets on, just waiting for you to make your complaint (and it will be a complaint in 99% of the time).

I don't think it's enough just to describe what the customers are like when they call in. I tried to create a table in order for you to understand what is going on; however, not even a graph would give you a good impression of what customer advisors deal with in their daily life.

Therefore, the only way is to show you what I mean. As I can’t naturally record the conversations I have created some dialogues where you’ll be able to see the great variety of customers’ characters. 

This will be, however, enclosed in part 2 of my article.

Bicycle

X

"A vehicle consisting of two wheels held in a frame one behind the other, propelled by pedals and steered with handlebars attached to the front wheel."
Oxford Dictionaries

"When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race."

H.G. Wells

"Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime. Teach a man to cycle and he will realize fishing is stupid and boring."

Desmond Tutu

World Naked Bike Ride in London on The Mall, June 2013/ ©Chmee2, Wikipedia

Eine Tasse French-Style Kaffee dampft zwischen mir und dem Keyboard und verströmt seine intensiv-dunklen Aromen. Während ich trinke, fühle ich beinahe, wie die Synapsen in meiner Festplatte verbunden werden. Ich bin nun also auch zum Opfer des Getränks der working people geworden.

Ich werfe einen nervösen Blick aus dem grossen Bürofenster. Gut, mein  Fahrrad ist immer noch dort, wo es sein sollte – mit zwei dicken Schlössern angekettet, also relativ sicher vor allem Londoner Diebesgesindel - oder?

Komisch, wenn ich an das alte London denke, fällt mir Dickens' Welt ein – Taschendiebe und Einbrecher in Opposition zu den mehr oder weniger hilflosen police officers und den  Reichen und Schönen Westlondons. Obwohl sich die Stadt seit dem 19. Jahrhundert natürlich stark verändert hat und sich auch die Prioritäten verschoben haben, hat sich das alte Diebesvolk hartnäckig gehalten.

Man beachte, dass London Police eine Website empfielt, die im halbstündigen Takt Updates von neu zu Verkauf stehenden Fahrrädern in der Stadt liefert. Ist man einer dieser armen Hanseln und Greteln, denen es mit dem paraten Schlüssel und offenen Mund vor dem Fahrradstand dämmert, dass sie beraubt worden sind, aktualisiert man nun wie ein Verrückter diese Website, um sein Eigentum möglicherweise zu finden und in diesem Fall sofort die Polizei zu kontaktieren. (Dan hat bereits ausreichend Erfahrung diesbezüglich gemacht).

Jedem Radfahrer-Neuling in London sei deshalb angeraten, sein Velo doppelt und dreifach abzusichern, um allem Übel vorzubeugen - ganz gemäss der Weisheit „Investieren statt lamentieren“. Ein fellow cyclist erzählte mir, dass sein Drahtesel sage und schreibe vier Mal gestohlen wurde. Natürlich legte sich der gute Mann nach jedem Raub bessere Schlösser zu und hatte am Ende die Queen aller Schlösser – ein Motorradschloss. Diese Geschichte kommt mir vor wie ein Kindercartoon, in dem der Protagonist am Ende triumphierend und beruhigt schlafen geht, weil er denkt, dass er den Bösewicht nun besiegt hat. Wie wir alle wissen, verliert Tom jedoch immer, während Jerry die Oberhand behält (und ja - meiner Meinung nach war Jerry der Böse!) Eines Tages fand mein Bekannter kein Fahrrad mehr vor. Übrig blieb nur mehr das Motorradschloss, das mit Säure aufgebrannt war.

Ich will natürlich nicht behaupten, dass London die Hochburg der Fahrraddiebe darstellt. Wahrscheinlich dürfen gewisse andere europäische Länder diesen Titel für sich in Anspruch nehmen. Allerdings kann man London auch nicht mit dem braven Wien vergleichen, in welchem ich ein ganzes Jahr mit einem Schlauchschloss herumdüste, ohne dass dieser nur einmal durchgezwickt wurde.

Ich habe erst seit kurzem zu meiner liebsten Art der Fortbewegung zurück gefunden. Ein halbes Jahr heiße und vollgestopfte Tube trieb mich an manchen Tagen fast zur Weißglut (in buchstäblichem und übertragenem Sinn). Wenn man drei verschiedene Züge und einen Bus nehmen muss, ist die Wahrscheinlichkeit groß, dass man auch alle vier im letzten Moment verpasst. Wer kennt es nicht, dieses Über-die-Treppen-hastende, Leute-aus-dem-Weg-räumende Männchen (wir selbst?) das fluchend vor den zugehenden Türen der Ubahn auf und ab hüpft (an manchen Tagen war ich tatsächlich beinahe so weit).

Mir fällt es auch nicht schwer das Verkehrsmittel zu wechseln, da ich plötzlich pro Monat £120 mehr in der Tasche habe (yes, please!). Und denkt bloß nicht, dass ich mich nun stundenlang quer durch die Stadt abplagen muss. As a matter of fact, mit meinem Fahrrad brauche ich fünf Minuten weniger lang zur Arbeit/nach Hause, ohne dem Stress der rush hour(s) ausgesetzt zu sein! Nebenbei verbrennt mein Körper täglich über 400 Kilokalorien und befreit sich von der steifen Haltung, in welche ich ihn durch achstündiges Sitzen gebracht habe. In der Zeit, in der ich zuvor nutzlos in der Tube herumstand (und zusätzlichen Stress aufbaute), habe ich also meinen täglichen Sport bereits abgehakt. 50 Minuten des Tages gewonnen! Und auch noch der Umwelt geholfen! Man lobt sich ja selbst viel zu selten.

Ein Phänomen, dieses Radfahren. Am schönsten ist es um 6.30 a.m., wenn noch wenig Verkehr auf den Strassen ist. Die frische Luft weckt Geist und Körper und die auf der Strasse erforderliche Konzentration bereitet optimal auf den langen Arbeitstag vor. Das Linksfahren ist übrigens nur eine Sache der Umgewöhnung.

Wer in London Rad fährt, ist automatisch Teil der sogenannten cycling crew. Gekennzeichnet durch neongelbe Jacken und Schuhe, schneidige Rennräder und stramme Waden, sieht man die Verrückten verstärkt in den rush hours vorbei sausen. Gestern war ich das erste Mal auch eine von ihnen. Man fühlt sich wie der unsportlichste Loser, da man ständig überholt wird und redet sich ein, dass man nach ein paar Wochen viel bessere Kondition aufweisen wird. Es ist fast wie im Fussballstadion – als Teil einer Masse traue ich mich, was ich als Individuum niemals tun würde. Ich schlängele mich keck hinter der Truppe zwischen den im Stau steckenden Autos (ha!) durch und fühle mich stark, als ich mit meiner crew vor den roten Ampeln wieder zusammen treffe (in London gibt es bei Ampeln netterweise vor den Autos einen grossen Streifen für Radfahrer).

Radfahren in London ist ein anderes Gefühl als in Wien, da die Strassen aus Platzmangel so eng gebaut wurden, dass man sich ständig vor Autos, Motorrädern und den furchteinflößenden Doppeldeckerbussen in Acht nehmen muss. Wien hat London voraus, dass es sehr viele gekennzeichnete Wege für Radfahrer gibt, was ich hier an Stellen ein bisschen vermisse. Das Verleihen der bunten City Bikes ist zudem fast gratis, während man sich in London für die zahlende Variante entschieden hat. (Mayor Boris Johnson schaffte es außerdem, sich mit den BORIS BIKES ein Denkmal zu setzen. Hach, die schöne Eitelkeit!)

Ein nicht zu vernachlässigender Faktor beim Radfahren ist der berühmt-berüchtigte englische Regen. Wiens Straßen sind auf beiden Seiten relativ eben, was bedeutet, dass man als Radfahrer nicht ständig durch eine Regenlacke schwimmen muss.

Als ich das erste Mal in die Arbeit strampelte, war ich mir bewusst, dass der durchaus verlässliche BBC für den Nachmittag Regen prophezeit hatte. Wie stark kann der schon sein, dachte ich verächtlich und legte mir Omas Weisheit ans Herz, von wegen "du bist ja nicht aus Zucker". Außerdem sagte ich mir, dass ich in Zukunft wegen ein bisschen Regens wohl auch nicht gleich wieder die Tube nehmen könnte. Ich ging das Risiko also ein.

Und die Moral von der Geschicht ...

... misstraue dem englischen Wetterbericht NICHT. Das ging mir durch den Kopf, als ich auf meiner Heimfahrt nach fünf Minuten bis auf die Knochen durchnässt war.

Aber sonst geht's mir gut.


P.S.: Wer gedacht hat, mich in der Menge am World Naked Bike Ride zu sehen, kann lang suchen - andererseits, ich hab ja bis Juni noch Zeit, um mich anzumelden :-P