Try Something New

This weekend saw some strange goings on in terms of my regular life that seems to be zipping by at an alarming rate. I broadened my horizons not once, but twice in doing new things I would otherwise never have done.

Late last week my cousin called to the house while I was out and left a message saying he wanted me to attend a play with him that coming Friday night. My initial query to the messenger was to confirm that he did say the word ‘play’. When it was confirmed that it was indeed a play he wanted me to go to my next thought was to ponder just how many people did he ask to go before he thought to ask me and how on earth were that many people otherwise engaged. The play was called Tom Crean and a quick glance through the small paragraph dedicated to it in The Irish Times’ ‘The Ticket’ supplement revealed this less-than-inspiring note:

Aidan Dooley’s one-man performance returns to tell the heroic tale of Crean, the only man to serve with Scott and Shackleton on three famous expeditions.

My first impression was this would be a weird, super-artsy take on one man’s struggle in the harshest environment on earth. Maybe he would try to portray the mental anguish such an expedition would no doubt conjure. Not wanting to disappoint my cousin and knowing I had just been delivered an excuse for a few pints in Dublin I agreed to go and promised to keep as open a mind as possible. Theatre is not something I would ever, and I mean ever, think of spending any time going to – probably to my detriment – so I wasn’t expecting much. At best I thought I’d learn something about an Irishman I ought to know more about given his place in history, at worst it would be 90 odd minutes of downtime in an otherwise enjoyable night out in Dublin.

Having thrown our pints into us we made our way to our seats near the back (and more importantly I thought at the time – near the toilets) and waited for the show to start. First a faint light from a lantern on an otherwise pitch-black stage appeared and made its way to the centre as a background of whistling antarctic winds made for the soundtrack. ‘Here we go’ I thought, ‘an artsy start’. The man on stage set the lantern down and stoked the imaginary fire in the centre of his camp. He then turned to the audience and began to speak in a traditional wesht Ireland accent introducing himself as Tom Crean, a boson in the Royal Navy. He then cracked a joke. Then another. Then another. Turns out this man wasn’t so much here to act as to tell a story, a story with a quintessential Irish take on the Royal Navy’s expeditions to the South Pole. Where he wasn’t being informative he was being funny and where he wasn’t be funny he was spilling out emotion about the losses and hardships ‘he’ had witnessed on the expeditions. I was enthralled. I had been completely sideswiped by my own brain’s ignorance to all things theatre. He wove out two stories, describing two of his expeditions with both witty and grisly detail, speaking about horrifying situations in a way only a dry-witted Irishman could. He gave everyone in the auditorium a charming history lesson they had never been happier to receive and as I walked out I made a point of stopping my cousin and thanking him profusely for asking me to come along and telling him that he should take pride in the fact that he changed a very stubborn mind.

A day or two later and I found myself doing something equally strange, at least by my standards. I went to a GAA football match. What’s the big deal? Well, I kind of don’t like gaelic football. In fact I’m often quite vocal against it for numerous reasons dominated by the reputation for GAA clubs banning their players from participating in other sports and for GAA fans’ propesity to slate soccer players as a means to elevate their own type to higher stature. Yes, that premier league player went down crying like a sack of potatoes, but then again he doesn’t spend his weekends stacking sacks of potatoes like your beloved GAA player does, does he? Soccer players are built for speed, agility and technique in the majority of cases. GAA players are built for strength, power and endurance. Different strokes, different folks – I never feel that threatened about being/liking a soccer player that I have to slate players of other sports and mean it. I’ve oftentimes tried winding GAA fans up with my claims that GAA players are just poor boxers who can run after 16 pints of Guinness on a Saturday night but I know that to be far from the truth. To be standing with a number of proper club GAA fans most of whom had at least long-time friends and at most immediate family playing in front of us was a change of scenery for me. For the next 70 odd minutes I found myself powerless to prevent my interest peaking in what played out before me. I am a sports-fan after all so I would naturally observe and interpret what the game offerred up, but it’s a rare occasion I’m watching with people who have a blood-connection with the team. The nervous twitches and the emotion with which every encouraging call or angry tirade towards the opposition (or referee) were somehow endearing to witness. The group I was with contained fans of both teams which meant inevitably half of the group was destined to be elated and the other half distraught. Both sides were calling the game as only they as fans could see it. Both took their turn in declaring the opposition to be the dirtier side and quietly made comments about opposition players to the point where anything a little more harshly stated could have resulted in me turning referee in the crowd. My attempts at light-hearted humour by playing the ignorant soccer fan (corner! hand-ball! etc.) got old quick with my small audience as the game approached the business end. As one team stretched out a lead the result became inevitable. One friend conceding it was a lost cause, the other too cautious to admit victory for fear of an epic collapse in the final few minutes. I could see the barely-contained delight at the final whistle on one side only to turn and see the utter abjection on my other side. One half of the group ran to go and join the celebrations pitch-side without even saying good-bye, the other half and myself made their way back to the car offering up the proud but painful admission that the best team had won and that their team only had themselves to blame (and they had in fairness).

While the rest of the world was busy coming up with ideas for something new and unusual to dress up as for the weekend that was in it I was learning I should branch out a little more into new and (to me) unusual things. I’m sure there are plenty that scoff at the idea that theatre and a GAA match are unusual, but in the context of my life it had been years since I had willingly done either despite having the chance to on plenty of occasions. I’m going to try my best to look out for similar opportunities in future and try to capture my thoughts the next time my brain tries to utter a no to a strange and unusual invite. I urge all others like me to do the same. To everyone else who tries new things on a regular basis I now hold a new-found admiration for you and your weekends, because I just had a fantastic one.

Press 1 for Quick and Clean, 2 for Slow and Painful…

There are two types of people in the world, those who have worked in a call centre, and those who have not. Looking at my CV all I see are call centres really. I’ve spent most of my adult life picking up the phone to members of the public and being paid to do so. Most people like me who’ve worked in call centres will agree that once you work in one call centre you are destined to work in many. It becomes some kind of strange comfort zone, something to fall back on. Strangely enough however I’ve yet to meet someone who doesn’t think it to be the most degrading, frustrating, soul-destroying job at times. My current job entails technical support and it is demanding. When you reach your 4th attempt at describing what a thick black cable looks like you’re just about checking each window in the room for cracks – because that window is likely to be the best one to jump out of lest you faceplant on the double glazing of another and bounce off. Lifting the telephone and hearing what must be a 70-year-old tell you that they just bought their first computer and it happens to be a 2000 euro apple Macbook causes another little ounce of your soul to escape your innards and begin a better life outside of the mind that has just become a shade darker. We aren’t dismissive enough to expect everyone to know everything about using and owning a computer but at the same time I wouldn’t send my Granny to a driving lesson in a left-hand-drive Ferrari.

Nothing, however, is worse that getting a call from that person that *thinks* they know it all. They assume that just because they can figure out how to series link the X Factor and set the clock on their iPhone they are suddenly network engineers. Cue 30 minutes of them clicking everything they can possibly click in a furious effort to prove themselves as a competent PC troubleshooter. Instead of just listening to my relatively simple instructions, that I’ve previously rehearsed 500 times earlier that morning, they blaze on through ignoring my every word until it gets to the stage when I have to actually ask them why they called if they seem to have it all figured out. The silent moment when they realise you’re insulting them in as polite a manner as possible is the most satisfying moment of my day. To be asked “are you calling me stupid?” only to reply with “actually sir, I’m trying to avoid it” is truly a bright moment in an otherwise dull day.

It’s being in situations like which result in me being an extremely ‘good’ caller whenever I find myself in a role reversal. When I call a company for help/information I’m polite, courteous and most importantly I listen. At the very least I have the account/reference/ID number at the ready. This concept of preparedness is something that in my experience is lost on the general public. My call centre has a pre-recorded message asking customers to have their account number ready and yet many, most even, claim to have never received one. They basically admit to having called someone up, handed over their bank and credit card details, full name and address and telephone number and not asked or insisted that they be given some kind of reference number. And when provided with the reference number they discard it like it means nothing. People fail to grasp that when you call a company which likely has thousands of customers you are not Mary Murphy, you are not Patrick O’Shea,  you are a serial number. You are a sequence of numbers and letters from 3 to 20 characters long. It is what makes you unique and what identifies you to a company. If you are going to complain about call centres and the amount of time it takes to get through then the least you can do is be ready with the information we require when you ‘finally’ get to speak to ‘someone who isn’t a robot’. And on that note, a voice recording is not a ‘robot’, and neither am I. You fucking cretin. Ahem.

So if you are reading this let me give you some insight into what you can do to make the whole experience a little better.

Dial the correct number – Companies have lots of phone numbers. My company has a number for Sales, a number for Customer Care, a number for Installations and a number for Tech Support. I spend a vast majority of my day acting like a receptionist transferring calls around because Joe that wanted to check if we received his cheque pressed 3 for Tech Support. By failing to take stock to what the recorded voice on the phone was saying you are risking queuing twice. If time is of the essence take the 30 seconds to ensure you have the right number and are selecting the right queue because 20 minutes later when you get through to me in Tech Support and you want to know why we took 100 euro out of your bank account this month I’m only going to apologetically tell you that you have to hold for Customer Care as I secretly do a happy dance on the other end of the phone celebrating my ‘freebie’.

Expect delays during rush hour – if you work 9-5 and you find yourself with the few minutes you thought would be enough at lunch time or when you got home that evening think of the amount of other civilians that are in the exact same mindset as you. Think of good times to visit a bank or a credit union – the same principles apply for call centres. First thing in the morning, lunch times and last thing in the afternoon/evening at easily THE worst times to try to do business. This goes for most businesses. My barber opens at 9. By 9:10 there are 7 people waiting for a haircut. I go at 10. I rarely have to wait – in fact my barber is usually waiting for me. Bear this in mind when you need to call a call centre. If it is impossible for you to call outside of the busy times then expect to wait. Don’t be angry, don’t be impatient. It is a queue. You joined it later than the people in front of you. C’est la vie.

Be ready – I touched on this above, but if you really want to help or need something sorted and sorted quickly then have your information ready. If it’s tech support or other actual product-related service you need to have access to it. Calling me from work to tell me your broadband at home isn’t working will only waste your time. Be at home, have your computer and everything switched on and ready to go. If the house is full of kids/family/friends then call another time. The 10 mins it might take to fix something can double or treble if you are not ready to discuss the matter or if you are only catching every second word because your 5 kids in the background are playing a game of ‘make the dog bark’. Remember that modern telephones and mobiles can pick up most if not all of the background noise and it is amplified the opposite end in my headset – your little Johnnie having a freak attack watching spongebob at high volume will drown you right out.

Listen – You called me remember? You need my help/information. If you have a problem, listen to what the person on the phone has to say. No matter what you think you believe, they know more about it than you. This might be the first time you’ve seen this problem. For the person on the other end they’ve probably seen it 10 times that morning and it’s not even lunchtime. Often I get people who assume they know what I’m about to say. Before you butt in and try to answer the question before it’s asked try to listen.

Check the simple things, twice – Sometimes we have to go through the easy stuff first. We can’t assume anything. If we ask you the simple things it serves only to ensure everyone is on the same page. Clichés like checking if it’s plugged in, switched on or connected exist because such oversights have been around since electricity was discovered. Don’t be impatient and presumptive, be cooperative and this will all be over soon. Also, calling someone on your phone to tell them your phone isn’t working reserves you a special place in hell.

Don’t get angry/abusive – This is quite possibly the very worst thing you can ever do to someone in a call centre. Imagine someone who has ever sat shouting and screaming abuse at you. Imagine how they are spitting pure rage and anger directly at you and only you. Now imagine you’ve never met them before and imagine that person needs your help. If call centre agents have one common agenda it’s that all abusive customers must die. Anyone who feels a good idea is to raise their voice and insult someone to get them to help them is severely delusional. I promise you. If you fuck me off and call me a cunt over the phone I will not want to help you. In fact I won’t even want to talk to you. I will not suddenly jump up and bow to your will – in most cases I would probably do everything within my power to ensure that your frustration and anger is prolonged. If you ever want to know why you didn’t get a callback from that person whose mother you insulted over the phone it’s because of this. I wouldn’t rush back to help an abusive scumbag on the street, I’m not going to rush back to help you. It’s akin to abusing a bouncer when they refuse entry to a nightclub – they weren’t going to let you in then, and you’re only proving it was a wise decision now.

There are many other call centre do’s and don’ts but the above few give you an idea of what it’s like to be speaking to the 40th person that day after a long shift only for them to not know their own address while they send one of the 6 kids to start booting up their PC in the middle of dinner at 5 to 6 on a Friday evening. It makes me thankful that video calling hasn’t taken off for call centres because I’m not sure anyone would want to see a grown man cry.