haonowshaokao

When I was applying for jobs back in November and was offered this one I took it on the condition that it was just customer services and not sales. And so it was.
Then last month we had a training session to introduce the new credit card the bank was now offering and we were told how to send out applications, which was fair enough.
Over the last month the pressure to ‘sell’ these applications to customers has steadily and insidiously risen. First the ‘incentives’ were introduced – sell ten cards, get a bottle of Baccardi Breezer, and so on. Then a couple of weeks ago my team leader started putting the form on my desk every day, saying I should try to get ten accepts that day. I didn’t say anything, just hoped that he would get the message that I wasn’t happy and stop badgering me.
This week the tactics have changed somewhat. On Tuesday I was called into a meeting where we were shown 4 pictures of a plane taking off and told that we were on the ground, ready to take off, but we wanted to be in the air, soaring over the world of accepts. The guy explained that we had to act as the customers’ account manager and ‘go that final inch’ to ‘get that sale’. I didn’t say anything.
This week we have a temporary team leader while the other one is on holiday, and as she seems nice I explained my problems with what was happening. She seemed to be fairly understanding but stayed well away from saying I could avoid offering the cards.
Today I came into the office to be confronted with trays full of cream cakes. My temporary team leader offered me one, then when I had it in my hand said “Ok, that’s your reward for getting five accepts today”
I said “What if I don’t get five accepts.”
She said “Well, you’d have to return the reward”
“What, bring it back up from my stomach?”
“No, you’d have to buy another one to replace it.”
So I put the cream cake by my desk and watched it congeal and go stale all day.
I was determined to show myself to be the most stubborn person in the
office. Then later on I started to think how stupid I must look with a cream cake in front of me, with nobody really caring about whether I’d eaten it or not. Was I turning into some kind of ridiculous pompous twat? Why didn’t I just sell some cards and have done with it?
But then I realised they had got one step ahead of me with their personnel psychology. I was meant to feel ridiculous so I could go along with their scheme.
I am not selling credit cards. I hate credit cards. I wish all “our” customers would pay them up and get rid of them instead of killing their selves with debt.
So I gave them my notice. In two months I leave England for wherever.

Me: “Good Morning. You’re through to James in customer services. Can I just confirm that you’re the principal cardholder?”
Old Man: “Er… no. Listen.”
Me: “Ok.”
Old Man: “I tried to call you yesterday but couldn’t get through. I listen to Radio 4 all the time and I heard someone talking about the word ‘posh’ yesterday and wondered if you knew how it came into being.”
Me: “You mean ‘Port Out Starboard Home’?”
Old Man: “Yes, because when they were sailing to India the richer passengers would be able to book out these sides and stay in the shade the whole way.”
Me: “Yes, I did hear about that. Interesting fact.”
Old Man: “Yes. Just thought you might like to know.”
Me: “Yes. Thanks for bringing it up. I’ll take a note of it.”
Old Man: “Ok. Well, thank you very much. Bye-bye.”
Me: “Bye.”

I’m not sure how you mistake Lloyds TSB for Home Truths, or how you get through an entire automated menu service that drives most people insane without realising you’ve called the wrong number, but getting through to the one person in the call-centre who’s read several linguistics books and has heard your fact a thousand times before takes the proverbial.

So, you could say it was a different day today. Bad, obviously, but it also felt like we were living through some history, instead of the daily trudge, though the only incident down here in Brighton was the closure of the station for a few hours. Still, each time an ambulance came past everyone went quiet for a moment.
I woke up at 10, heard the news while still in a daze, and then spent the later part of the morning and the early afternoon watching the TV and listening to the radio, though developments were few and far between. The first pictures of the bus were what really made me realise something serious was going on.
Walking through the streets and then talking on the phone the rest of the day the difference was significantly more noticeable. Everyone was markedly less aggressive than usual and talking in a much more gentle way. That people were calling up to discuss their credit cards at all was a little strange, though, and I still had to deal with one apoplectic woman first thing.
Getting back home it seems to be a smaller incident than everyone was thinking – the death toll isn’t shifting too much. Compared to New York, Madrid and Bali it’s turned out to be relatively minor. I stress relatively.

8pm:

Just had to take a call from someone I spoke to last night and go through exactly the same things at the same extensive length I did yesterday. He said I’d put his mind at rest, again, hope whoever he speaks to tomorrow night about it does too.
Out in the world outside the news seems to be turning into chapters in Tony Blair’s autobiography, which is giving the headlines a narrative flow they’ve been gasping for for years – The failed bid in Paris, thousands of frenchies booing, then cut to Tony and Jacques up in Gleneagles about to enter the conference. Outside protestors clash with police.
It’ll be a good scene in the biopic.

2am:

Andy the mugger has come round. The girls say they are scared of him since they found out, but I’m not – I’m sure any robberies were carried out in a trademark cheeky chappie fashion. However, I’m too tired to watch the situation and bed is calling. ‘Night.