Stand back folks...This one's gonna get ugly.

Regular readers of this blog know that I work in a survival job, doing tech support in an outsourcing company. We handle a major cable provider here in the U.S, and I just want to make a few points. I'm doing this both as a vent, and as a bit of an educational piece for anyone when they call into a customer service center. Oh let's face it; I'm really pissed off at the extreme stupidity, crassness, and outright rudeness many people show when calling in about a problem they may be having.

This is an across the board issue, no matter what you're calling in for, whether it is your cable service, internet, health care bill, electric bill, etc. I understand about being upset about an issue. Really, I do. We've all been there at one point or another. Things get screwed up. It's okay to be upset. What's not okay is thinking that the rep on the other side of the phone is evil incarnate. We're just worker bees at the end of the day. we're trying to do the best we can, and most of the time, we really can help if you just give us half a chance. If you're going to take your frustrations out on us however, you'll find that you'll get even less help than you might have expected.

Okay, enough of talking in the third person. Here's some basic information:

I am not your whipping boy! I work like you do, pay my bills like you do, and deal with the same kind of corporate idiocy on some level like you do. If you have an issue with the company I work for, then direct it to someone else that deals with customer complaints (and every company has one of these departments, at least the large ones do). I don't. I'm here to fix your problem, not be the object of a tirade. I'm sorry, but the customer is not always right. Too often, the customer is so wrong, it's almost laughable.

I'm going to ask you to verify some account information. Why? Well, isn't it a good idea to make sure you're the account holder? Oh, you mean you already punched that information into the phone? Why do I have to ask you again? Well, because sometimes the system is a piece of garbage, and the information doesn't get transferred to my screen. Sometimes, as in my case, it's because government regulations say I am required to re-verify this information. Mostly, it's because my bosses say I have to!!! Believe me, I think it's just as stupid as you do to repeat the same info over and over, but I have to keep this job for now, so don't get on my case.

Oh, you're going to scream and curse at me? How nice. How adult of you. You don't even know how to curse creatively, and now I have to lower my headset volume so that I don't puncture an ear drum. Of course, my first reaction normally is to want to tell you to go fuck off and die, but since my employers take a dim view of that, I am forced to give you three professionally administered warnings about foul language. After warning number three, I hang up on you and report you as an abusive customer. Here's a tip: You want to utter a single curse, that's fine. I can live with that. You're venting, and not directing it against me. But direct a personal attack at me and you've crossed the line. I may not even give you the grace of three warnings, and hang up on your sorry ass after the first one.

This one is simple. If I ask you a direct question, I expect a direct answer, not your life story. I know you don't want to stay on the phone with me one iota longer than is needed, and the same goes back to you. It's not that I don't want to (well, to be honest, there is a little of that), but I have a certain metric to meet. No, that's not something like a meter, kilometer, etc, but a certain number of minutes and seconds I am allowed with each customer. No more than 6.5 minutes are permitted, or at least by the end of the month, I should be averaging below that, or at worst, no more than seven minutes, or I get a tongue lashing from my supervisor.

One last thing. I am not your father confessor, or your doctor. Most especially not your doctor. I don't need to hear about every freakin' medical condition you have, nor do I care. I'm not being mean, it's just that I have enough of my own medical conditions to fill most monthly medical journals, that I don't need to know about yours. I left health care in part to be away from sick people on a daily basis, and while we're not in close proximity, the fact that you have explosive diarreha is not something that will impact your cable service, or my ability to get your cable service up and running again. So, go take some anti-diarrhea medication, and come back to the phone when you think you won't be running to the bathroom every 5 minutes, as I only have 6.5 minutes to talk with you anyway.

Sigh...I really need to get out of this job...

Is it safe?

Yes, it is. A compromised was reached, and my job is safe. All this means is that I now have to double and triple my efforts to get out of that 10th Circle Of Hell, whether by means of another job, or by freelancing full-time. On the latter of those two, things are headed in the right direction. I just picked up another client to do some copyediting for a series of web articles that this person is goign to publish.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Stay tuned to this station....

....for further updates, as my employer is screwing with me big time. I may not have a job by tomorrow morning, depending on what happens during a meeting with my supervisor tonight. Without getting into too many details as of now, it deals with in part, a letter from my doctor that I gave them about 2 weeks ago that noted the need for me to take a few breaks during the course of my shift for certain medical necessities that I have, such as checking my blood sugar. There is also the little case of them accusing me of breaking a company rule, which I did not - and I think is retaliation for my going to a lawyer for advice, as the company owed me over 6 months worth of retroactive pay that they only got to me once I advised them that I had consulted a lawyer about my options.

This is not going to be pretty no matter what the outcome.

No joy in Mudville...

I didn't get the public relations job. I don't know why as of yet, as I just found out late today. I'm going to call tomorrow to see if there is anything I could have done better, or at least why I wasn't chosen.

Unreal, and I was stunned. I have been through this so many times in the past few years, and it is really wearing on my soul. This was the best opportunity to come along in some time, and if I can't even get something like this, I don't know what I'm going to do...

On the plus side, it looks like I picked up a new client for my writing business, so maybe this is a sign to go full-bore into my freelance business, and damn the torpedoes.

You need a time out!

Correct me if I'm wrong, but as I understand the way these things work, career centers are supposed to be full of helpful, knowledgeable people that can assist a person in their search for a new job. I mean, these are supposed to be human resource professionals that understand the issues facing today's economy, and the struggles that people go through in order either to find work, or to improve their current job situation.

This is what it is supposed to be, right? Tell that to RochesterWorks.

I used this service some years ago when I was out of work, and was very unimpressed. It was with a jaundiced eye that I considered going back there when it was suggested to me to give them another go to see if they might offer some assistance, at least regarding re-tooling my resume. I was told that they actually had improved their services.

So with trepidation, I signed up for a resume review session for today at 11:00 am. I made several different copies of my resume available, in different formats that would be arranged depending on the type of position I was trying for. It turned out to be a group session with six people and a moderator. We would all get to see each others resume's and critique them. Not a bad idea, I have done this sort of thing before.

Then the moderator opened her mouth. What came out were some of the most condescending, shrill, and trite statements that I have not heard in a long time. This was a human resources "professional?" I use the term professional very loosely, you see. She was about as unprofessional as it gets. First, she would make comments such as "I love you for it," or other such drivel to people when making observations about things on their resumes. Her interaction style was that of a parent to a child. She really jumped into the deep end of the pool when it was time to look over my resume.

After everyone took time to make some notes on my resume, she started to make a point regrading my opening summary, something that I disagreed with and was trying to explain why. She then proceeded to put her index finger to her lips, and shushed me as though we were in church and I was making too much noise. I simply lifted an eyebrow, and threw daggers at her through my eyes, which was enough for her to realize she had just made an enormous faux pas.

It took all of my resolve not to let my inner Bronx-boy out and let her know what I thought in an old school fashion. Normally, this would involve many four-letter words and references to the sexual exploits of her mother. I decided that this would not achieve my main objective; to get her in so much trouble, that she would have no recourse but to fall on her sword in remorse. A few minutes after her attempt at silencing me, she apologized, but the sincerity that should have been there was sorely lacking.

She pulled another bonehead move; she implied that I had "returned to Rochester as a result of something happening to me in NYC." She came to this stunning conclusion after seeing that I listed two of my former health care jobs from my paramedic days in Brooklyn.

"I didn't 'return' to Rochester. I moved here. I'm from NYC, and those were jobs that I held back then."

I think I saw the blood drain from her face as she realized she screwed up yet again.

So, on it went, until it mercifully ended. I went home madder than hell, then got together with a friend for coffee. The look on her face when I told her what happened was enough to tell me that I knew I was in the right. My friend is a former business owner, and she is far too familiar with HR people. I went home after calming down enough, and wrote a scathing (but professional) letter to the executive director of this organization, and e-mailed it to him. I am hoping for an answer tomorrow.

What I'm really hoping for is that this moderator gets sent to her to her room without any supper. Well, not really of course, but a good tongue lashing couldn't hurt, could it?

Beyond the beyond.

I think my patience with my employer has hit critical mass. While I made the decision a few weeks back to start looking for another job, it was not until Friday that it really hit me how badly I need to get out of it. It's bad enough that one is treated like so much cattle, expendable, and can be culled from the herd without so much as a second thought, but when they start messing with my hours, then I have a problem.

The time system that they have is quite frankly, a piece of shit. It's not uncommon for it to screw up, and basically punch you in/out incorrectly, which is what happened last Wednesday. I worked an extra hour during day, and the system misplaced the punch in time. Not all that unusual, so you just send a note to the supervisor and he/she corrects it, right? BZZZZT! Wrong answer, thank you for playing! It seems that whoever corrected it simply decided to totally delete the extra hour, thank you very much.

This is typical of the type of nonsense we all have to put up with there. Some months back, I had a problem with my computer that basically put me down for an entire shift. Since I work from home, this can be a bit of a problem. I don't have the luxury of walking over to another cube and logging on to another computer. I called the supervisor to place a ticket for me, and then waited for IT support to call, and waited, waited, waited... You get the picture?

Well, they never did call, and I waited up until the end of my shift at 3 am. So, I naturally spoke to the boss the next day, and told him what happened. You see, they weren't going to pay me for the shift. Excuse me? It's not my bloody problem that your computer screwed up. It's not my bloody problem that your IT help desk can't call me back within a reasonable amount of time in order to get me back up and running.

He eventually saw the sense in my argument, and they agreed to pay me for the shift, and put in place some procedures to avoid this in the future. It's a shame that it took my having to state the obvious to them in order to get them to wake up. We now finally have a dedicated help desk team just for the work from home people.

Too little, too late.

Now, regular readers will know that I am working towards being a full-time freelance writer. I took a nice step in that direction last week as well, with my first big job; I wrote up a press release for a local film company that is having one of its short films made into an internet webisode for Atom TV, and is being produced by Comedy Central. You can check it out here:

http://www.eggwork.com/cappers/

While this is a good start, I still have to think about a regular income until the writing business really takes off. I've retooled my resume, and Tuesday am taking it in for a review by a career counselor. After that, I'll start using whatever connections I can, plus the usually sources of Monster.com, Linkedin, etc. You know the drill.

While I have no desire to get fired, I would, quite frankly, not be upset if they did. I would collect unemployment, and throw everything I had into my business, not that I am not doing that already. Health insurance would not be an issue, as I would go back onto Mrs. Nighttimes' coverage.

Of course, Mrs. Nighttimes' opinion on this is not quite the same, so for now, issues aside, I look for another job while staying employed. Common sense says it's the best position to be in; my brain however, is melting away like fondue. I don't want to stick a fork in it and call it done.

I'm resolute on not making any resolutions.

"New Year's Day: Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual." ~Mark Twain

As usual during this time of year, the standard question that is asked by friends and family is "So what resolutions have you made for the new year?" While I hate to sound moribund, I have come to the inescapable conclusion that making resolutions for the new year is the easiest way to break promises to yourself. I think having goals are a good thing, but, when ironclad resolutions are set-up, I think it is a recipe for failure, and extreme disappointment.

Even the term "resolution" carries with it the air of a non-committal attitude. Let's take a look at Congress. How many times have you read about them making "non-binding resolutions" regarding a particular issue? It is basically a way of saying "This situation sucks, we hate it, and we want to do something about it but don't have the power to." You can see the same thing done at the UN, the Hague, and just about every other governmental entity on the planet.

If we can't expect governments to stick to resolutions, why should we expect them in ourselves? I know, I know, we're better than the politicians, but still, we procrastinate, and we make excuses, and in the end, we don't commit to making the resolutions real, no matter how much we want to. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, and even I fulfilled at least one resolution in my life, and that was to return to acting after my transplant. I don't know, maybe the whole "staring death in the face" thing had something to do with it.

There is a Zen saying: "When you seek it, you cannot find it." I think that this is what happens when you set resolutions.

I think maybe a better approach is to think; "What can I accomplish today that will mean something for this moment?" While I certainly have goals I would like to accomplish, I think that if you stay too focused on the far goal, you lose track of what is immediately important.

So, starting Monday, my two immediate goals are to look for a new job, and get my daily schedule in order with regard to my writing business. That, is the immediate concern.

Oh, and on an unrelated note, it was amazing to see Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey getting the Kennedy Center Award. (Ok, just ignore the fact that Bush is introducing them. That they're getting the award is what's important.) They rarely do it for non-Americans, much less not one, but two rockers.

Death needs to take a holiday.

Well, it was an adventurous trip downstate, to be sure.

Thursday morning, I had to go lecture at an undergraduate director's class at the RIT (Rochester Institute of Technology) School of Film and Animation, which was something that had been planned about 2 weeks prior. It went very well, and I have been asked back for next semester.

I went home, and finished packing for the trip down, but realized that I had to stop at work first to drop off some paperwork related to my health care coverage for next year. While getting all this together, I was listening to the weather report, and to my concern, kept hearing the words "ice storm" in the forecast. Great. Just what I need.

I logged on to the Weather Channel, and it looked as though this ice storm was barreling right up through Pennsylvania, and was going to cut through the southern tier of NY, right where I was going to be traveling. Sizing up my options, I decided that my usual route down I-390 might be worse than heading across the Thruway, and then going south down I-81 past Syracuse. As it turned out, you couldn't get there from here no matter what road you took. The ride to Syracuse went just fine, and then about 10-15 minutes past it, all hell broke loose.

A snowy blast that started as a trickle came down on me as I traveled further south. While I was able to keep driving the speed limit for a fair distance, I had to eventually slow it down, as more of the road went the way of the dodo. The snow became thicker, and it became obvious that there was ice building up. How did I know? Well, the number of vehicles I began seeing in the ditch on the left, or into the right guard rail began increasing exponentially.

I was going about 25 mph, with idiots still passing me doing 50, when I started fishtailing. The old emergency vehicle operation responses kicked in, but the car was having none of it. I started to pull out of it, but then the rear of the car got away from me, and I started doing a 180. Somehow, I didn't hit anyone or anything, and just pulled myself out of the spin in time to have the rear wheel of the car perched about a foot from the ditch at the left shoulder.

I took a deep breath, made sure that no one was barreling down on me, and pulled away, just happening to notice that there was another person that had glanced the guard rail on the right shoulder. He seemed to be okay, we waved at each other, and I continued on my way.

Things finally started letting up, the snow changed to rain, and I pulled into the gas station in Binghamton that I had been using as a stopping point since I started going to college in Buffalo in 1981. I called up my friend Sherri who lives in the Catskills. I was going to have to follow Route 17 through it to get home. The word was not good. Ice. Lots of it. I decided that staying put was a better option, but getting a room was going to be interesting. After the $142 rate at the Fairfield Inn made me wince, I found a recently renovated Super 8. It was clean, didn't appear to have any denizens lurking about, so I plopped down $50 (on plastic), and settled in for the night.

I made some phone calls home, and mom was especially relieved that I decided to abort the trip for now. Of course, it meant getting up at oh-dark-thirty to hit the road in order to make the funeral at 10:45. The bed was fairly comfortable, the room warm, so at least one thing on the trip worked out okay.

I hit the road at a very dark 6 am, and made it down to my friend's home in White Plains at 9:30. Slugging down a cup of coffee, we carpooled with another friend down to the Castle Hill Funeral Home in the Bronx. My friend was there, putting on a very brave face, very happy to see me. She had flown in from Arizona the day before, and must have been mentally and physically exhausted.

My friend's dad was a very well respected and liked man, as was evident by the turnout at his funeral. The service lasted about 30 minutes, and we followed the procession out to the cemetery in New Jersey. This was the hardest part of all, for my friend, her mom, and the rest of their family. This was an Orthodox Jewish burial, and as such, the family was expected to begin the burying of the coffin just to the top of it. I did put in a few shovel fulls, but it only made me more determined to make sure I am cremated. This is not what I want for myself, with people gathered around, already in shock, having to bury my body. my feeling? Burn me, spread my ashes (in a place to be determined) and have a party.

Personally, I think the Irish go about it the right way. Celebrate the person's life, and get drunk in the process.

I went to the shiva call Sat. night, (you can't sit shiva on Shabbos) after spending the day with my neice, who is gorwing up so fast, and while the circumstances were not he best, it was a reunion of sorts with some old friends that I have known for 30 years. Hopefully, we will all meet again under far better circumstances. I started for home Sunday morning, with just over a dozen bagels in tow, and heading back west on Route 17, came across beauty on the side of the road:
Branches encased in melting glass, the sun casting prism broken light onto the road. I pulled over, and just wanted to get the moment. Fortunately, it stayed off the pavement, and made the trip home easy.

Exhausted, I had little time to unpack, and then I had to work.

While scanning my e-mails, I went to reactivate my e-mails for the liver disease support group that I hang on, and while doing so, almost fell out of my chair. One of the members of this group for 10 years was found dead the day before. I helped start this group, and Joe had come on board not long after it was started. He battled Hep C, got transplanted, survived the Hep C combo therapy that rid his body of the virus, only to be brought down by what appears to be lung cancer. Joe and I were not close, and at times, were down right adversarial. Over the past few years however, we communicated privately more, and had developed a respect for one another.

This has been a true hell week for me. I think I need a holiday. Death can stay home and bother someone else for a change.

No joy.

I'll need an hour or so to sulk, then I'll be ok.

Cattle call.

"Who am I anyway?
Am I my resume?
That is a picture of a person I don't know.

What does he want from me?
What should I try to be?
So many faces all around, and here we go.
I need this job, oh God, I need this job."

From A Chorus Line

Life in freefall...then back up again.

Sorry I have not posted in a couple of weeks, but life has been a bloody rollercoaster since just before Thanksgiving.

Turkey day itself went quite well, with the both my SIL's visiting from Buffalo with their families, as well as Mrs. Nighttime's aunt. A good time was had by all, but it was the events of just before and just after that made life interesting.

The Sunday prior, Mrs. N. got a phone call from an old high school friend and informed her that his mom died. She was sort of a second mom to Mrs. N, so as you can imagine, this hit her pretty hard. Her friend asked Mrs. N if she wouldn't mind singing at the funeral, which she gladly accepted. She went to Buffalo Tues. for the wake, stayed overnight with her aunt, and then went to the funeral Wed. morning. I was originally going to go to the wake, and then drive back to Rochester to go to work, but my place decided to call a staff meeting that I could not get out of. I probably should have just blown it off, but it was for all the work-from-home people like me, and it had to do with some big changes coming down the pike. In the end, I really didn't have a choice.

So, Turkey Day comes and goes, and then on Friday, I get a phone call from an old friend of about 35 years, who informs me that she just put her dad into hospice. He has been battling prostate cancer for about 5-6 years, but it appears as this time, it is going to win. I expect that at some point in the coming weeks, I will be making a trip down to NYC for a funeral. I guess that I am now at that age when I should be expecting more phone calls like this. Thank goodness my mom is healthy.

Now, on the plus side, the fundraiser for our new theatre with our alumnus, Donna Lynne Champlin went extremely well. She was wonderful to work with, and it was old home week for her as well. She has even told us that if she needs to come back for a second round of shows, she would be happy to do it.

Back on Halloween, I met an acquaintance that had left town for some time, and has now been back for the past few months. She used used to do PR for the local art house cinema that is near our theatre. Lovely British woman that I used to bring back boxes of PG Tips for on my visits to Canada. She is now in the media relations/PR dpet. of a large not-for-profit agency here in Rochester. I told her about my situation, the writing business, and how I am looking around for another job while building my business.

We were planning to get together for coffee, when she asked me if I would be interested in possibly doing some freelance PR work at her agency, that there may be a need for such things in the coming month. I told her I sure was, and e-mailed her some clips from my portfolio. (Articles I have written, PR releases, etc.) Out of the blue this past Wed. I get a phone call from her co-worker, who asks me if I might be interested in a full-time position there as a PR/media relations specialist. Apparently, my friend passed along my clips to her, and I have an interview this coming Tuesday.

Now, this is to fill the position for a woman on maternity leave until March, and who may (or may not) come back. Either way, it is a foot in the door and an opportunity I have been looking for a very long time. I have always known the value of networking, and hopefully, it will pay off in a big way now.

So, I am grabbing on to the bars, and just riding the rollercoaster to wherever it leads. Wish me luck on Tues.

Silence is golden.

Normally. For now, silence means I can't work tonight. I have a wicked cold that has morphed into laryngitis. It's early in the seasons for me to get one of these, so I am hoping that this will be the only one. I can still breathe and taste things, and the zinc I have been taking seems to be lessening some of the nastier effects, but the bottom line is no voice = can't talk to customers = can't work.

Then again, that's not too bad, really. I can catch up on some reading, or some sleep for that matter, or both. Colds can wreak havoc on me, with my not-so-up-to-speed immune system, so I am hoping this is a quickie. Better this than the flu though.

I was going to blog about something else altogether, but am just not up for it. Maybe tomorrow.

Update: Voice is back, sinuses are still under assault.

I used to be disgusted...

...but now I'm just amused. Elvis Costello said it best.

It always boggles my mind as to how the corporate world can manipulate language to make anything different than what it truly is. Case in point:

Over the past two weeks or so, we have been receiving e-mails from the powers-that-be at work advising us lowly grunts of a "special event" that was to occur yesterday, and that we were all required to attend. They blocked off 30-minute sessions throughout the course of the day so that the entire staff could attend without seriously impacting their staffing levels on the phones. (A reasonable approach.) However, when these e-mails went out, they gave no hint whatsoever as to what this "event" (read: mandatory training session) was all about. Some of us had our suspicions. They were confirmed once we got into this "event."

In the world of corporate operations, there is this little device called "up-selling." Essentially, it requires tech support folks like me to ask the customer if they are interested in adding additional services onto their account. If they respond in the affirmative, we route them to the sales dept., where the hard core sales people put the real squeeze on them in order to earn their commission. This is not a judgment on the sales folk; they're just doing their job. Now personally, I find the whole concept of up-selling distasteful. If I wanted to be a salesman in any shape or form, I would have become one. Unfortunately, this is one of the most closely scrutinized aspects of our "metrics," or standards that we need to meet.

As anyone who has ever worked in a call center knows, the "script" that you are given to use while conducting a call is a prime example of what can be described as "corporate-speak." It is so heavily laden with false pleasantries as to be more insulting than helpful. My experience tells me that most customers far prefer straight talk, and quick answers and solutions to their issues rather than convenient social pleasantries. But, let's take it the next step.

This "special" event was nothing more than a training session conducted by a representative from the main office, that flew here to Rochester to basically whip us into line. While we were doing fine in all our metrics, there was one area that was lacking, and that was, you guessed it, up-selling. So, groups of us were treated to the why's and wherefore's of up-selling, why it's important, and what we can achieve out of it. They do try to sweeten the deal by giving a small bonus for every up-sell that results in a completed sale.

Here's the thing though; the trainer they sent here must have thought we were all idiots, or at least some of us. He would ask a question such as: "What is the goal of being a salesman?" I piped up, "To sell the product." Pretty easy to understand, right? BZZT! Sorry, wrong answer, thank you for playing. "The goal of the salesman," he intoned, "is to overcome objections."

What? Really? Silly me, I actually thought having the customer purchase the product the company was offering was the main goal, but hey, what do I know? Now, overcoming objections is an objective, or even a tool, but it is not the goal. Any first year marketing student can tell you that. What was the real kicker was when he told us that our goal as tech support was to "offer value to our customer." I just sat there dumbfounded. This guy was drinking the Kool-Aid by the gallon. Spare me please. The goal of our efforts as tech support people is to offer a first-call resolution to the customer's issue, plain and simple. We may offer value in certain customer service options we give them as well, such as taking payments, and perhaps correcting certain account issues, but as for it being a main goal, no, sorry, not buying it.

One has to wonder when corporate America is going to get away from this type of useless language get down to what being in business is all about: get the customer to buy your product over what the other guy is offering. One can do this in a simple and direct manner, that does not insult the customer's intelligence, and actually persuades them that what you offer is best for them. I also wonder when they will get it through their heads that speaking to me like a child does not help as well.

I needed a real release when I got home, so I pulled up one of my favorite movie scenes, such as this one from "Charlie Wilson's War." Aside from the fact that I am a big fan of Philip Seymour Hoffman, there are times that I wish I could do what he did and get away with it.

Ugh...

It's been a busy weekend, and it has no intention of slowing down. The script read went very well, and Ali's professors gave some very good constructive criticism. It is an excellent story, though some more development is needed. The website for the film is here. It is in pre-production, and casting will begin soon. It is partially funded at this point, and as soon as all of it is complete, he should start shooting around May of next year. Ali has already invited me to Turkey to watch the shooting, and while I don't know if I could swing it financially, I'd love to try.

So, apart from that, I spent most of yesterday playing tour guide at my theatre. The Landmark Society of Western NY has these neighborhood tours every year. We participated in one back in 2005, and they asked us if we would do so again, so I volunteered to act as a guide, and give a history of the theatre to people coming throgh it. I had no voice left by the end of the day ,and my knees were aching.

Today is going to be just as busy, lots of house stuff to do, then work tonight. Ugh...

I gotta get outta this place...

...if it's the last thing I ever do.

The job. As if it were not already the most mind numbing thing I can think of, along comes two things that just add to my own sense of impatience of getting out sooner rather than later.

Late last week, I get an e-mail from the supervisor that handles all of our training regarding some more responsibilities that will be foisted upon us, not that we had a say in the matter, mind you. The pain has been spread out amongst everyone on this program, not just us telecommuters. So yesterday I had to take two hours out of my day to learn a new two new skill sets that, truth be told, could just as easily have been handled with handouts. (Even the trainer admitted this.)

Is there more money to be added to our regular bi-weekly pittance for having these new skills? Yeah, right, I should know better.

So, off I go, log onto MS Web Meeting, and sit through two useless hours of following a PowerPoint presentation that really was not necessary. For those of us that have been on this program for some time, myself included, there was really no need to undergo this. All they had to do was give us the handouts, (in our case, via e-mail) and some very brief, concise instructions on parameters for using them, and all would be good.

Actually, we got lucky; the client wanted a 7 hour training on this!!! Insane? You bet. Thankfully our trainer talked them out of it. The only saving grace was two hours of overtime in the coffer.

However, what has finally got my goat is the fact that our new schedules have come out, and I was not given the times and days off I have requested. It was not all that different from what I have now, but it was the fact that this was the umpteenth time that I have not gotten the schedule I have asked for. Mind you, I was:

A. One of two people that were the prototypes for this telecommuting program and proved that it could work.

B. Have been given an award for work that I have done regarding assisting people in the IM chat room we have for us that telecommute.

C. Was one of two people that field tested a prototypes virtual work environment that is planning on being implemented.

I didn't think that after all of this it would be too much to ask for a schedule that suits my needs. As a result, I may not be able to audition for a show I have had my heart set on going for, as I may not be able to fit in the rehearsals if I do make it in.

I am tired of having my working life dictated to. When I started my freelance writing business, I made a plan to at least be able to drop to part-time at my job within a year. (In other words, at least 50% of my income would be generated from the freelance writing to make that a reality.) I have decided to move that timetable to six months. One way or another, I am going to drop this god-forsaken job by early next year, if it is the last thing I ever do. I am going to also start delving hot and heavy into learning editing and proofreading, as this is really where there are a ton of opportunities.

Yes, I know, I should feel lucky I have a job. It's just not enough anymore.

Yeah, but it's a dry heat..........

So, while I do hate my job, (see previous posts) it does have its moments of absolute absurdity. While not quite as absurd as the things as the things I encountered as a paramedic, it still makes for a good chuckle, or the occasional outright guffaw. The customers I serve come from the southwest, primarily in Arizona. (I support cable TV services)

Now, I have been to Arizona, as I have a friend that lives there. It can be starkly beautiful, but hellish is terms of daily temperatures (in the summer, at least) at the same time. It's no wonder then that the people that live there can be...uhm....oh, how do I put this......suffering from a bit of gray matter meltdown from time-to-time?

Cases in point:

This happened maybe about 2 months ago, and is a prime example of why you should always pay attention while talking on the phone;

ME : (Headset tone rings.) "Hello, thanks for calling, and how may I help you?"

CUSTOMER: "You found poop in your room?"

ME: (Burst of tremendous laughter. All professionalism goes out the window.)

The customer was talking to her four year-old daughter, as they just bought a new puppy, and it was not quite housebroken.

This other incident happened maybe a year ago, and definitely falls under the "too much information" category.

I was talking this woman through setting up her cable system to her new, big, flat screen HDTV along with her amplifier. Her roommate apparently had done a less than stellar job. Unfortunately, it was also in this large entertainment center, which made it unwieldy, and not very accessible in the rear, in order to hook up her cables and other wiring. It was a slow process for her, as she was less than technically inclined.

As we progressed, her frustration level increased, causing outbursts of greater venom directed at her currently absent roommate. I was thinking at the time that said roommate was due for a severe tongue lashing upon her arrival home, at the very least. The way this woman was talking though, I thoroughly expected her to become a story on the evening news.

Her frustration eventually reached the point of no return. While in reality, she wasn't doing badly under my precise direction, it was her trouble at navigating behind the entertainment center that was bothering her more than anything. Finally, in a burst of uncontrolled emotion, she blurted out, "Look, I'm a lesbian, but I'm not the butch in this relationship. I don't know how to do this shit!"

My tongue still bears the scars of my teeth, as I bit down very hard.

Still contorting herself behind the entertainment center, she then remarked to me, quite casually, "You would not believe the position I am in right now." Before I could put the brakes on my brain, I said, "I'm sorry, but I can't discuss your sex life on a service call."

We both burst out laughing. (We actually had been laughing at a lot of this, and had developed a good rapport, despite her being pissed at her roommate/lover.) My brain then kicked into gear, and I thought "Oh shit, I hope they're not monitoring this call."

I waited for the dreaded call from my shift supervisor, contemplating my employment options, but thankfully, no one was listening on this one. I did tell another supervisor (that is an actual human being, mind you) about this call, and he burst out laughing. He told me I had a set of brass balls, and that he never would have had the guts to do something like that. He asked if I ever did anything that nuts as a paramedic.

I looked at him and said, "You have no idea."

They're a funny lot out there in Arizona.........

Crackerbox Palace

I hate my job.

Let me say that again. I hate my job.

It is a necessary evil, working where I do, for two reasons. First, I get to telecommute. To those not familiar with the term, it means I get to work from home. So, from the standpoint of convenience, it is a good thing. I save on gas, I don't have to haul my ass out in the snow, rain, and other bits of nature's wrath that gets thrown at us here in western NY. Our winters can have a tendency to be brutal, (though not as bad as Syracuse, in terms of snow pack) and the actual building where I would work has a parking lot that always seems full. This entails parking at an auxiliary lot across the main road, hopping a shuttle, (which is always crowded) and braving the elements. Now of course, there is also the advantage of going to work in whatever attire I deem fit for my mood that day.

So, that is the not too bad element of the job. Everything else? Well, let's just say that I work at a place that is a 21st century version of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory in terms of the way people think. (Sorry, I am not going to do your homework for you on this one, you'll have to look up the reference, especially my Euro friends.) It is an outsourcing company, essentially a cube farm, and the only thing missing from there are the food troughs at each desk. As with all outsourcing companies, the bottom line is the bottom line. Corporate speak abounds, and the idea of "leadership" amongst the managers is something that is often spoken but rarely, or I should say never demonstrated.

I understand the concept that companies outsource to save money......at least in theory. I have worked on 3 programs there in 2 years, and 1 out of the 3 actually terminated the contract with my company because they found it was costing them more money to outsource. Currently, I do tech support for a large, multi-state cable TV company and cover the southwest.

I think the heat really fries people's brains there, as my stupid-o-meter always seems to be in the red when I am dealing with customers from there.

So, why do I stay? This is reason number 2. It is, unfortunately an evil I have to put up with for at least one more year (hopefully less) as I get this writing business off the ground. You see, I get to work nights, 9 pm to 3 am, 5 days a week, with the other 20 hours of work on whatever time I choose to put in. This makes things terribly convenient when trying to start up a business, when you need daytime hours to do things like network, make contacts, talk with editors, etc. So, I swallow my pride, but not the Kool-Aid that they give us there, that it is such a fantastic place to be. Their attrition rate exposes the falsehood of that idea. Conformity however, is what they want.

Unfortunately, that offends my sensibilities.

"While you're a part of Crackerbox Palace
Do what the rest all do
Or face the fact that Crackerbox Palace
May have no other choice than to deport you"