Did I say better? I meant bitter. Working in a call center makes you a bitter person.
I just updated my resume to say that I work for a local mortuary making calls. I believe that once you hit the two week mark working somewhere you cannot quit unannounced and that means that the work experience, however inane, suddenly belongs on your resume. Unfortunately that means that I just put a call center front and center on my resume. I made it sound a lot nicer. I typed in “Appointment Setter” instead of phone monkey because even though I have not made a single appointment that is still somehow my current job title. I did not put in the bullet points “dialing the elderly and reminding them that they are going to die someday.” Instead I wrote that I call “interested parties” and make funeral preplanning appointments.
No matter how nice I make it sound it is still a call center and working in a call center still makes you a bitter person.
It may also make me a better person but the best thing I bring to all of my relationships is sarcasm and hostility so I only want to talk about how a small piece of my soul dies every time I dial the phone.
I am basically telemarketing and I know how I feel about telemarketers. I hate them. If I see a call from a number I don’t recognize I will not answer it because I know it is someone trying to sell me something, or the student loan people trying to get their money out of me (you’ll never get your money. You boys backed the wrong horse.). Honestly I would like to start most conversations, when people actually answer the phone, with the phrase “hi, I’m one of those annoying telemarketers who call at all the worst times. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” So every time I dial that phone I feel a small piece of my humanity slip away and I almost hope that I get yet another answering machine and no one has to know what I have become.
The worst it has been was yesterday. Going down the list that I had been given I came across a familiar name I paused for a second then said, “that’s my friend’s mother.” I then skipped over the number. That woman knows my name, she knows my voice, I am not going to let her know the monster that i have become.
I’m making it out to be worse than it is. Most of the people I talk to are very nice, especially if they let me get through the whole script and discover that I am not trying to sell them anything. I’m just trying to get someone into their house to remind them that they are going to die someday and hey, you might want to start thinking about it.