Customer Service

For some weeks there's been an audio clip going around on the internet. I've tried to link to it below but since I am clearly pretty inept when it comes to computers I'm certain it won't work

http://gawker.com/youve-never-heard-a-customer-service-call-meltdown-qui-1299857467

so I'll just tell you that it's a really pissed off guy calling a customer service line. It's been on several different websites and is usually accompanied with a title like "WORST call EVER!" or "You've never heard ANYTHING like this!". I beg to differ. The first job I had out of college was answering phones for one of Tennessee's finest, U.S. Senator Jim Sasser, and I can tell you I've heard this shit plenty. One other girl and I were responsible for greeting visitors in the front office as well as answering six phone lines, which on the surface doesn't exactly sound like challenging stuff but I assure you it was hell on earth. Even all these years later I'm still amazed at the things people would call us about "the trailer can't get a cable connection? This is a job for Jim Sasser!" "I'd like to move my mailbox...better call Congress.", and how vicious they'd be when we couldn't magically solve their issues right there on the spot. Throw in the fact that he was the Chairman of the Budget Committee which was handling Bill Clinton's new (and wildly unpopular in Tennessee) budget, and there were days when I'd be covered in flop sweat by 10:00am. I couldn't expect any collegial support either, as the other receptionist - who insisted on calling herself the Senior Receptionist because she started a full month before I did - was a complete twat. She apparently thought her impressive tenure entitled her to hop up from her desk whenever she wanted and go flirt with the hot guy in Sen. Bryan's office across the hall. I get it, but still, what a bitch. Good thing for her shitinabox.com folded.

The official rule for the phones was that you had to be as cordial and receptive as possible, no matter what the issue; we were to take the caller's name and address, document their issue and assure them that the senator or an appropriate staff member would get back to them right away. However, if the caller either threatened the life of the president (a felony!) or used profanity (an art form!), then we were told to end the call. The beauty of this rule is that we weren't specifically told HOW to end the call. The presidential threat one was easy - we would just tell the caller that we were under a legal obligation to report them to the FBI, which always got a good response. I suppose it was just assumed that we'd just hang up if the profanity thing arose, but I generally chose to take that as an opportunity to work on a few issues on behalf of these folks. "You do realize," I would say, as pitifully as possible, "that you're speaking to someone's daughter. I have absolutely zero influence or power here and yet you treat me so shamefully. I can only assume you'd be horrified for someone to talk to your child in such a manner." That would usually elicit an immediate apology, but the real assholes would double down and throw out a "you listen here, I pay your salary you work for ME." which would get them back an "I make $18,000 a year. If I refund your teeny-tiny cut up piece of a penny, will you promise to NEVER FUCKING CALL BACK AGAIN?" The most satisfying outcome was when it turned out that you actually KNEW the person. I'll never forget sitting through an especially rude tirade about how that perverted hillbilly Clinton and his lesbian wife were going to drive this country straight to hell and how could I look in the mirror knowing my heathen hand was right there on the steering wheel with theirs, I should just be ashamed of myself; when the woman finally finished her spiel, I got her name and realized immediately it was the mother of a friend of mine from high school. "Oh, Mrs. X! It's you! This is Elise! Dennis and Joanna's daughter!" Mortified silence on her end. To this day she can't run into my mother without apologizing. Excellent.

While 99% of the calls were just angry and mean, we did have a couple of people I really looked forward to hearing from. One was an older guy named John Wayne Boyd who lived in (no kidding) Finger, TN and thought that Jim Sasser was the finest person to ever walk the earth. John Wayne never really gave me any specifics, he just wanted us to know that if he had his way then Jim Sasser would be the Vice President of the United States. Our governor, Ned Ray McWherter, would be at the top of the ticket but ONLY because he was older, not because he was in any way superior to Sasser, "I don't have to like it, but it's only fair.". I appreciated John Wayne's enthusiasm but slightly doubted his mental state because he also had a habit of mailing me letters written on paper Burger King tray liners. He was a paragon of the community compared to my other favorite frequent flier, Mr. Ray Martinez of the Atascadero Forensic State Hospital of California. He would call every Monday and Wednesday at 3:00pm, like clockwork (during what I can only assume was the hour or so he was allowed out of his cell) and demand we make public the list of the "TOP TEN MAFIA BANKERS!" Initially I made the mistake of correcting him, no, sir, we actually don't have that list and to be honest I'm not certain one actually exists, but pretty soon I learned it was so much better just to let him go. If you got Ray on a good day and asked the right questions not only would he fill you in on the bankers, but he'd explain exactly how Jay Rockefeller, Anita Bryant and Amtrak were conspiring to control all American firearms production. That one didn't make a lot of sense at first, but I have to hand it to him because he brought it home strong and sold it well. Ray made conspiracy nuts look rational - he once told me that he knew exactly what happened to President Kennedy, because he was the grassy knoll. Not was at the grassy knoll, no, Ray was the actual hill. I told him that must make it difficult to find pants that fit well, or to travel, and after a moment or two of silence he said "why, yes. Yes it does."

looking good, Ray Ray

 



His first love, however, was always the mafia bankers. He called every member of the Budget Committee about them and we'd compare stories. Every now and then, for some reason, Ray would try to call under a fake name, disguise his voice and speak super-rationally, but we always knew it was him and it was so easy to flush him out "....ok, so I'll send you a copy of SR-380. While I have you on the phone, Mr. Smith, do you have any banking questions? Or concerns about the mafia, by chance?" and off he'd go. I miss that man.

As awful as that job was, I've always been glad I did it. For one thing I am exceedingly polite to people who are in customer or public service of any kind; it was a great lesson, and one I hope my children understand as well. It also taught me the deep satisfaction of fucking with my other friends who worked on the Hill or in reception; I can't count how many times I would transfer some pissed-off redneck to the direct line of Phil Gramm's legislative director, or call Don Reigle's press secretary and ask about the rumors concerning the 12 year old in the crawl space. It was the most fun to crank call Cslos, though. While she didn't work on the Hill, she worked in the medical records department of a hospital and had to answer the phone "Discharges". I would call at least once a day and request a quart of lymph, or some semen. I'm certain my efforts at entertainment were not at all appreciated, but I enjoyed it. I hope anyone who's ever suffered the indignity of taking abuse from a faceless stranger gets to turn it around with as much satisfaction as I've had. I'm going to call Saxby Chambliss now and let him know that my tires are low.