Getting Sucked in to "The Cable Company" (I'd tell you which one, but I don't want to get sued)

Phase 1: Recruitment

          I was an unemployed college student struggling to pay the bills, taking out regular loans from the Bank of Mom & Dad, and desperately searching for a job that paid me remotely what I thought my time was worth (i.e. more than minimum wage) when I stumbled on the ad from The Cable Company advertising an hourly wage I thought was irresistible and a list of prerequisites  that my resume could soar over. It would have taken a team of linebackers to hold me back from pressing the send button on my e-mail application. I couldn't believe I was actually applying for what had been my dream job. It wouldn't be long before I realized exactly why the ad appeared so appealing and exactly why they were offering pay rates that college kids would pee their pants over, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

          Only a few days passed before I got an e-mail back from the head of the HR department directing me to The Cable Company's website to complete the official online application to work in corporate America's armpit. Another few days passed and another mysteriously cheerful HR representative called me to do a telephone interview. With each progressing step in the interview process I grew more and more excited. I was finally going to earn some money. I could get a real bank account and pay back my loans to The Bank of Mom & Dad. I felt my stomach drop through my butt when Miss HR told me that in addition to my hourly compensation I would also benefit from commission incentives based on sales performances.

          “Once training is complete, in addition to the hourly rate listed in the ad the average rep earns biweekly commissions of anywhere from $200 to $1000 . Does this sound like something you'd be interested.”

          I hesitated a moment. The numbers she spewed forth seemed so unbelievable that it almost set off the red flag Kirby vac salesman scam alert in my head. I staved the warning off however with a brief self talk about how The Cable Company is a reputable, well-known, national company.

          “Of course!” I replied. “This position definitely sounds like something I'd be interested in. What's the next step?”

          I finished the telephone interview and scheduled a time to come in for some pre-employment testing. I was really unsure of what to expect going in for the test because I'd never previously participated in the corporate hiring robot mill. I arrived 15 minutes early for my testing time slot. I was so nervous and excited. Because of my eagerness to please and my underestimation of how time managed this company is I ended up waiting those extra 15 minutes anxiously in the front lobby. When it was my turn to test HR Representative number  three came to usher me to my testing booth. She showed me how to use the head set on the computer and how to adjust the volume, move the mouse, and change the size of the screen. I thought she was joking at first. Who would apply for a job in a call center that didn't possess at least these basic computer “skills?” When the automated test started I realized of course that none of it was a joke at all. The test took me through different sections meant to measure my call center ability, customer service knowledge, logic/reasoning, and business aptitude—or as I would call all of it—common sense.

         

Have you seen Outsourced on NBC?

If you have, then you may consider yourself a call center expert. I'm here to correct this assumption. Much like everything else in shown on television--it is nothing at all like real life.

Let's start with the office. Nothing about that office is realistic (except for maybe the fact that the managers are close by hovering over everything you do...that part is pretty spot on). I have never worked at, interviewed with, stepped foot in, or heard of a call center or telemarketing outfit that has such nice desk space. Don't get me wrong, I've had my own space at every office...but it's never been an individual desk unit. It's desk attached to desk attached to desk. Sometimes there's partitions sometimes not. Either way, everything you say can be heard by the customer on the phone with the person on either side of you in addition to your own.

Also, does anyone not notice the whole time zone discrepancy issue? This call center on the show is supposed to service customers from the United States ordering out of a prank product catalog. India is in a completely difference time zone. To service the US during normal business hours their call center would have to be open at night time--or they would have more than one shift to service around the clock. Just an observation.

After the Telephone Fundraiser "gig" I worked making business to business telemarketing calls for a company that sells safety training materials--ya know OSHA, DOT, EPA regulations and the like. This position was basically the same as the previous. I sat at a desk, tied to my post by my headset, dialing and hanging up and dialing and hanging up and dialing...occassionally I'd talk to someone long enough to be told no. It was certainly not the glamorous talking for pay position for which I sought. Luckily, this position was short lived--a summer job.

After that my interest in the whole idea dwindled. It appeared that all such talky talk jobs would be the same. It wasn't until I interviewed for a local catalog company that I realized I had been missing an entirely separate aspect of the industry known as "inbound call centers." Up until this point I thought all call centers were created equal. I thought if I'd work in one, I could work in them all. I figured my dialing skills were unmatchable.

How it all started...

When I moved into my first apartment with my best friend at eighteen years old, I had the pleasure of calling the telephone company to set up telephone service, the internet company to set up internet service, and the cable company to set up television service. During these phone calls I thought to myself that it must be fun to sit in an office and talk to people on the phone all day. I wondered how one would go about getting set up with such a cushy position. I imagined that I would be the queen at telephone service, and then I thought about it again not at all until...

That winter I was looking for a job. Living the high life in college with my bestie meant I needed some money to fund these grand adventures we were having such as eating dinner and driving to class, ya know...college stuff. I hit up the college job ad postings and lo and behold! a job! on the phone! Telephone Fundraiser. Here was my chance. I sent over my resume, set up the interview and was on my way to fulfilling that fleeting dream of monetizing my blabber mouth.

We'll skip ahead to working there because we all know I got the job or I wouldn't be writing about it. Let me be clear, despite the upcoming complaints, this was by far my favorite phone job ever. What it wasn't though, is anything at all that I expected it would be. This seems like a good place to clear up a few  (of my) misconceptions about this type of work.

• It's not as much talking as it is dialing and answering machines.
• If you're picturing a teenage girl laying on her stomach on the bed with her ankles crossed twirling the phone cord around her finger while she giggles into the receiver then you may stop. It's much more like having your butt go numb from an absolutely non-ergonomic chair, ears covered by a headset with a cord that makes you feel chained to your post.
• Not everyone wants to talk to me--or whatever company it is that I'm representing. Furthermore, not everyone will be polite about not wanting to talk to me. Hang ups would be a welcome relief compared to some of the things to which I've subjected my ears in the name of telephone service.
• Reading a script or receiting a pitch is not the same at all as having a conversation. It's much more awkward and much less fun. No one is fooled. Everyone knows that this is a staged interaction. (Future jobs however did allow for a little more genuine conversation...)

These might all may seem obvious, but to me it was a disenchanting discovery. At first it was fun to come home and talk about the interesting things I encountered at work. I would laugh at silly people. I would pity them. Later the laugther and pity would turn toward resentment. It's funny to me now to think back to that first paid to talk experience. I would have never left that job if I knew what would come after.

Just so you know...

One of the most important facts that anyone needs to know about me is I like to talk. When I was six years old and in first grade, my mother had to send a notebook with me to school so that when I finished my assignments I could write in the notebook instead of talking to disrupt my fellow students. My mother would often receive comments from teachers and friends about my extensive vocabulary for my age--understandable that when you've used so many words so early in life you would need to find more. It's no surprise then, that I would grow up liking to write given as much practice as I had that first year of my schooling.

I like to talk almost as much as I like to write (maybe more). In fact, you could argue that the reason I write is because the paper or computer will never tell you that you're not interesting or that you talk to much. Writing is simply me talking to an always captive audience. No one could read what I write ever and I would still feel like I told someone my secrets. However, this is not at all meant to be about writing. This, this blog here, this thing that I'm trying to do is all about talking.

I am a professional talker. That's the simplest way to put it--I get paid to talk. I went to college and graduated with my Bachelor's in writing. I naively thought that upon graduation I could be instantly snatched up by my favorite publishers and whisked into a world of literary magic. When my favorite professor enlightened me further on life in the publishing world (I so desparately wanted to be a book editor) I became completely disillusioned. I thought then perhaps writing would have to be something I do just for me instead of for me and a paycheck. However, do not fret, I haven't completely given up that dream. I've just temporarily replaced my desires with a practical application of my "skills."

I have six years of experience talking to people for a paycheck and about twenty four years of experience talking for free. I should have known the first time I accepted a talking position that I would be forever cast into the role of the talker. I should have also known then that talking on someone else's dollar isn't nearly as much fun as it sounds--if it sounds like fun to you at all. It's hard for me to look back and think that this type of job was something I ever sought after, but I was young and stupid once. I'm still young...I just hope no longer stupid.