Candle-Brisk
Sep. 12th, 2005 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalon"Hello! May I speak with Ms. Applesnide, please?"
"You can talk to me! I'm her boyfriend" I can feel the pure hate wrapped in an accent coming through my headset. I dial down the volume a bit, and at this point in the call i'm supposed to consult a list of rebuttals i'm to use in case of boyfriends or husbands who might try to run interference on a sale. This is roughly call # 200 and i've made my qouta of five sales for the day. Fuck it! Time to start improvising:
"Her Boyfriend?" I ask confused
"Yep"
"Which one? The black one or the white one?"
"You sunava..."
Click. I hit delete on the number and the screen shifts to the next call. The computer dials up the next number. A UNIX screen pops up, while the call is being made, giving me the info on the next 'lead': A name & address of a person i'm trying to legally hoodwink out of their hard earned money. Well this is what a GED gets you kids, a shitty telemarketing job selling subscriptions of magazines, that no one wants to read, to people no one wants to talk to.
"Hello..." I begin my spiel again
I'm sitting there thinking that if 'God is in the details' as Buckminster Fuller proposed, and if we're to believe that Satre was on the right track when he said that 'Hell is other people' then work is definetly where the 'Devil is in the details'. It occurs to me now that it is the piling up of all the details that crush a man! Not tragedy! Not fate! Not any of the million little betrays that will happen in a liftime. Nope, it's the routines that snap the will and smother the spirit. It's the accumulated weight of all the bullshit that piles on day in and day out until... SNAP!!! You're just another walking black hole wrapped around a cheap suit of flesh. There is only one solution...
"We're not home right please leave a message after the beep.....Beeeeep"
I take note of the leads name, put my hand over the mouthpiece on my headset and begin chanting:
"MRS.CORNROW WE HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU! OBEY YOUR GOVERNMENT OBEY YOUR TV OBEY YOUR GOVERNMENT OBEY YOUR TV..." I repeat this until the recording stops. I try another number and get yet another answering machine. This time I recite what little of Baudelaire's Sick Muse I've memorized to impress gullible young Emory girls-
I wish that your breast exhaled the scent of sanity,
That your womb of thought was not a tomb more frequently
And that your Christian blood flowed around a buoy that was rhythmical
The next call patches through.
"Mr.Nutswanbah. My name is Robert Spunkmeyer with SCANNA... sir our records show that your electric bill is going to be roughly 533% higher than normal and we are obligated to ask if you are running any heavy machinery in your basement..."
"Wha... no... how much higher did you say..."
"Are you aware your neighbors have reported strange lights coming from your home at night and we here at SCANNA have to ask if there is any illegal science going on..."
Some calls I just use the Charlie Brown teachers voice:
"Bwaahhh-wa-waaa-wa-wa-wah"
"WHO IS THIS?"
"Wa-waaa-wa-waaa-wa-wa-wa!"
"Who are youu....?" some random housewife breaks down in tears. This goes on for the better part of an hour. So far so good: I've been been threatened in every way possible- legally, physically and not a few have invoked the powers of the heavenly host to smite me down right where I sit. All in all, i'd call it a job well done!
"Robert, could I see you in my office, please?" My boss taps me on the shoulder to accompany his trademark nervous whisper-squeak which makes him sound like a cartoon mouse. He adjusts his glasses and in doing so has knocked his wig off kilter a bit. I disconnect the line and follow him to the desk the desk that acts as an office. He motions for me to take a seat. There are none so I stand. This is it I figure. This should've gotten me fired. Hellooooo unemployment! He shuffles through some paperwork until he finds what he needs in a large manilla folder.
"Ummm..yes.. about this request for a day off..."
"Yeah" I forgot about this. I did it as a joke last week before I clocked out for the weekend.
"Well, the thing is neither management nor myself have ever heard of a religious holiday called 'Candle-Brisk'..."
"Really" I say incredulous. "My parents celebrate it every year..."
"Really"
"Why would I lie about my faith?"
"Oh no... no.. I mean...is it a... um... a Jewish holiday?"
"It's a Judeo-Christian holiday sir!" I say channeling a sincere annoyance.
"Oh" he adjusts his glasses again and grabs his pen and signs the bottom of the request form. "Well then there you go" and he slides the page to me. "Just give me a copy for my records". I sit there waiting for the other shoe to drop. "That'll be all... thank you". I get up. I walk over to the call center, man my desk and reenter the grid. Two minutes later I get an old lady who sounds confused...
"Mrs.Duckbill" I say "There isn't much time i'm afraid! The Mysterions have landed and i'm afraid they're voting Democratic this year ...."
"Oh... well that doesn't sound good" She tells me sincerely.
And so it goes....
"You can talk to me! I'm her boyfriend" I can feel the pure hate wrapped in an accent coming through my headset. I dial down the volume a bit, and at this point in the call i'm supposed to consult a list of rebuttals i'm to use in case of boyfriends or husbands who might try to run interference on a sale. This is roughly call # 200 and i've made my qouta of five sales for the day. Fuck it! Time to start improvising:
"Her Boyfriend?" I ask confused
"Yep"
"Which one? The black one or the white one?"
"You sunava..."
Click. I hit delete on the number and the screen shifts to the next call. The computer dials up the next number. A UNIX screen pops up, while the call is being made, giving me the info on the next 'lead': A name & address of a person i'm trying to legally hoodwink out of their hard earned money. Well this is what a GED gets you kids, a shitty telemarketing job selling subscriptions of magazines, that no one wants to read, to people no one wants to talk to.
"Hello..." I begin my spiel again
I'm sitting there thinking that if 'God is in the details' as Buckminster Fuller proposed, and if we're to believe that Satre was on the right track when he said that 'Hell is other people' then work is definetly where the 'Devil is in the details'. It occurs to me now that it is the piling up of all the details that crush a man! Not tragedy! Not fate! Not any of the million little betrays that will happen in a liftime. Nope, it's the routines that snap the will and smother the spirit. It's the accumulated weight of all the bullshit that piles on day in and day out until... SNAP!!! You're just another walking black hole wrapped around a cheap suit of flesh. There is only one solution...
"We're not home right please leave a message after the beep.....Beeeeep"
I take note of the leads name, put my hand over the mouthpiece on my headset and begin chanting:
"MRS.CORNROW WE HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU! OBEY YOUR GOVERNMENT OBEY YOUR TV OBEY YOUR GOVERNMENT OBEY YOUR TV..." I repeat this until the recording stops. I try another number and get yet another answering machine. This time I recite what little of Baudelaire's Sick Muse I've memorized to impress gullible young Emory girls-
I wish that your breast exhaled the scent of sanity,
That your womb of thought was not a tomb more frequently
And that your Christian blood flowed around a buoy that was rhythmical
The next call patches through.
"Mr.Nutswanbah. My name is Robert Spunkmeyer with SCANNA... sir our records show that your electric bill is going to be roughly 533% higher than normal and we are obligated to ask if you are running any heavy machinery in your basement..."
"Wha... no... how much higher did you say..."
"Are you aware your neighbors have reported strange lights coming from your home at night and we here at SCANNA have to ask if there is any illegal science going on..."
Some calls I just use the Charlie Brown teachers voice:
"Bwaahhh-wa-waaa-wa-wa-wah"
"WHO IS THIS?"
"Wa-waaa-wa-waaa-wa-wa-wa!"
"Who are youu....?" some random housewife breaks down in tears. This goes on for the better part of an hour. So far so good: I've been been threatened in every way possible- legally, physically and not a few have invoked the powers of the heavenly host to smite me down right where I sit. All in all, i'd call it a job well done!
"Robert, could I see you in my office, please?" My boss taps me on the shoulder to accompany his trademark nervous whisper-squeak which makes him sound like a cartoon mouse. He adjusts his glasses and in doing so has knocked his wig off kilter a bit. I disconnect the line and follow him to the desk the desk that acts as an office. He motions for me to take a seat. There are none so I stand. This is it I figure. This should've gotten me fired. Hellooooo unemployment! He shuffles through some paperwork until he finds what he needs in a large manilla folder.
"Ummm..yes.. about this request for a day off..."
"Yeah" I forgot about this. I did it as a joke last week before I clocked out for the weekend.
"Well, the thing is neither management nor myself have ever heard of a religious holiday called 'Candle-Brisk'..."
"Really" I say incredulous. "My parents celebrate it every year..."
"Really"
"Why would I lie about my faith?"
"Oh no... no.. I mean...is it a... um... a Jewish holiday?"
"It's a Judeo-Christian holiday sir!" I say channeling a sincere annoyance.
"Oh" he adjusts his glasses again and grabs his pen and signs the bottom of the request form. "Well then there you go" and he slides the page to me. "Just give me a copy for my records". I sit there waiting for the other shoe to drop. "That'll be all... thank you". I get up. I walk over to the call center, man my desk and reenter the grid. Two minutes later I get an old lady who sounds confused...
"Mrs.Duckbill" I say "There isn't much time i'm afraid! The Mysterions have landed and i'm afraid they're voting Democratic this year ...."
"Oh... well that doesn't sound good" She tells me sincerely.
And so it goes....
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2005-09-12 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-13 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-12 09:20 pm (UTC)i wish i could get candle-brisk off...
no subject
on 2005-09-13 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-12 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-09-13 02:31 pm (UTC)I can't imagine what kind of heathen would work on 'Candle-Brisk', I mean really!