Seriously. I’ve just received an email from a customer requesting support and the text was formatted in Comic Sans.
I swear there’s gonna be a fucking murder today.
Why do people insist on playing around with the air-conditioning controls? They don’t know how they work or what buttons to press. They are, to put it quite simply, stupid cunts.
In my day of asserting authority in the office it was essential to walk around with a blue hardback book and have a permanently “I’m thinking” face on. These days it seems that the new important accessory is to have a pair of shoes that make a very pronounced ‘clunk clunk’ whilst navigating the office. Over the new few weeks I will take decibel readings to see if they correspond with actual corporate importance.
Seriously, when you’re going for a piss, don’t piss one-handed whilst using your phone to text with the other hand.
Oh hang on, you were on a Skype video call? You dirty fucker.
It never fails to make my chuckle (or turn into a seething ball of rage, depending on mood) when someone of importance in the organisation sends a company announcement TO EVERYONE and then sure enough you get the lower ladder twats who insist on forwarding that very same email TO EVERYONE. Again.
They normally start with,
“Hey Team, please read…”
Sometimes when on the phone giving “world class support” for “zoo grade peanuts”, we need to ask for a screenshot. Occasionally we cannot connect remotely to the customer’s system but still need to get a decent picture of what the are seeing on the screen. Not that I’m saying that the customers are either stupid or lying, but generally speaking they often lie, and can be stupid. So, we ask for a screenshot. Whether you are poor and using Windows or an overpaid entitled prick with a Mac (I wish I could afford a Mac), it is pretty damn easy to get your computer to take a screenshot.
Why oh why do people still:
a. Send a Microsoft Word document with an embedded image
b. Use their mobile phone to take a photograph of the computer screen
It really can be the straw that breaks the camel’s back on any given day, I can tell you.
Okay, let it be said that I am not a fan of the current trend of companies bringing out new releases of the same product each year, especially when the ‘new’ version barely features a whiff of anything new and useful.
But security! GDPR! Oh shut up. These should be free, incremental updates to the application.
Having said that, when a customer who purchased AmazingDoItAll v1.0 in 1987 calls to complain that they are not entitled to a free update to AmazingDoItAll 2019 Edition I am driven to similar feelings of ‘Oh just FUCK OFF and pay up for the upgrade’…
If you bought a Ford Consul in 1962, would you expect a free upgrade to the latest Ford Tippex XL? I mean *really*.
Customers really do have an awful sense of entitlement. Funny how most of them seem to own iPhones.
Customers = Bastards
I’m feeling a bit retro this evening, so I decided to tuck into a tin of mushy peas and a couple of Findus Cripsy Pancakes. Total 90s vibe.
In between crunching the processed savoury goodness and scalding the roof of my mouth with the rather dubious matter inside, I suddenly remembered a time quite a way back when I was working on a campaign with my mate Will.
We were on an inbound customer care campaign for electrical goods and other delights. Anyway, it was nearing the end of a long day and my esteemed colleague Will may have partaken of a few hits on a “jazz-cigarette”.
He was at the stage of the telephone call where his verbal replies to the protagonist at the end of the telephone line were preceeded with him screwing up his face as if he was about to perform extraordinarily hard calculus… The customer was complaining that the cd in his portable boom-box was spinning in reverse. Over the hustle and bustle of the busy call centre I did not hear Will’s answer to the customer’s problem but shortly afterwards he gleefully informed me (I was supposed to be a manager on said team at that point in time) that his advice was for the customer to contact an exorcist, as it was most likely that the cd player was possessed.
Luckily this was in the days before call recording was mandatory in this sort of operation. So, in my most managerial manner possible I gave him the wink and suggested that we have a staff meeting. Staff meetings were often fun, and one day I will tell you about them…*
*HINT: A pub is involved.
So, the new boy on the team is already winding me up, not least because I’m old enough to be his Dad.
Still, his acne is clearing up nicely and with a bit of cultivation the caterpillar on his top lip he could pass as a very young Midge Ure.
Why is he winding you up? Well, I WILL TELL YOU. He logs out of his phone precisely ONE MINUTE before his shift ends, just so that he doesn’t have to risk getting a telephone call in the last minute of his shift. What a selfish twat he is! I may have to form a battle plan, it’s been a while.
My name is Jones. I work in a call centre. I’ve worked in a few call centres, some of them pretending they weren’t. They were.
I’m here to tell you about my time in them, both past and present. You have been warned.