Workplace Stories: Why CS Reps Are Bitter

Some callers are older adults, in their 60’s and 70’s, who may be having issues understanding what you’re saying. The solution is to slow down and speak in simple sentences. Otherwise, all is well and you might be able to provide some good customer service to them.

Until their severely insecure children enter the room. Mom and Pop are just about to go the distance with you and wrap up the conversation peacefully. Well that’s just not good enough for Super Child. Super Child is desperate to appear powerful and impressive. Super Child has a massive chip on their shoulder and are determined to "rescue" their parents from a fate worse than death.

"I got this," they boast as they swagger to the phone. There’s nothing to "get." There is no issue but don’t worry – they’re about to create one.

When we’re kids, we ask our parents or grandparents or whatever guardian for permission to do something. If one says no, we go to the other. Sometimes it works but usually it doesn’t. We realize this as we get older. Well, some of us do.

The Toddler wants a refund for something he’s already used. Several times. Your refund policy is etched out in perfect English, type A 14 font. It’s impossible to miss or misinterpret.

"I’m sorry, sir, but our refund policy does state that any product that’s been used, broken, befouled or soiled in any way is not eligible for a refund."

"Okay, thanks." He’s not hanging up because he understands and accepts what you’ve just said. He’s hanging up because he’s about to call right back, in hopes of reaching someone new and getting a different answer.

"Sir, as I stated thirty seconds ago, the policy is clear."

He’ll chuckle sheepishly and hang up. Two minutes later:

"I’m sorry, sir, but our policy is clear on our web site…." Your co-worker has clearly been stuck with The Toddler and you silently thank your holy creator that the call didn’t go to you again.

After about four rounds with the reps, he gives up.

Definition of Insanity: Performing the same task over and over, expecting a different result.

The Snail is an unnaturally slow talker. He takes forever to get a coherent sentence out and even when it does make its late-born appearance, he'll backtrack, cancel out that thought and struggle to come up with another one.

"Thank you for calling. How may I help you?"

(silence)

"Hello?"

(even more silence)

"Hello? How may I help you?"

And just when you think it's safe to disconnect:

"Hi."

(silence)

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"Well...." (you can hear him stretching, eating something, flushing the toilet, etc) "I was wondering....wait. What company is this?"

"XYZ. How may I help you?"

"Oh." scratches his head. "Well, I have....this....email from you." (the phone is practically in his mouth, so you can hear the saliva dripping down his throat)

You struggle to turn down the volume but there just isn't a -10.

"And what did the email say?" You start to feel like his mother.

"Oh. It said.....that I was...ummmm mamamam ummmm....said that I was.....let's see."

You start doing your nails.

"Oh, yeah, it said that....I was approved for a loan."

Finally. Reluctantly you put aside your emery board.

"Well, sir, I can look up your information to verify if you were approved for a loan. May I please have your phone number?"

(silence)

"Sir?"

You can hear a cellophane wrapper. That prehistoric slug is eating. AGAIN.

"Yeah."

"Sir, may I have your phone number?"

"Oh. It's, uh....5...5...5...um...(munch) 4...3....4...(crunch, crunch)....3......2.....7...............7. (swallow)."

"Thank you, sir."

And the rest of the call progresses along that vein. By the time it's over, you've chewed off your own arm and are beating yourself over the head with it.

The Ditz, slash Princess, slash Valley Girl, is an interesting creature. She really does, in her plastic candy-coated heart, believe that she is the center of the universe and that all life revolves around her.

Don't ever expect to have an intelligent conversation with her. She's easily distracted by shiny objects, sudden noises and lapses in attention. Therefore you will have to do all of her thinking for her.

"Thank you for calling, how may I help you?"

Incessant giggling follows, followed by other inappropriate noises which are punctuated with "no...NO...no, I didn't. Oh, no I didn't, you mean thingy, you."

"How may I help you?" A little louder this time.

"Oh, hiiiiiiii. So, like, what company is this?"

"XYZ. How may I help you?'

"Oh, coooool! So, like, I've been wanting to buy a new car and, well, I don't know what to do. I've never bought a car before and it's all kinda confusing. There's all these...uh....words...on your web site and, like, I just don't know what to do. So, uh, can you help me?"

"Sure, I can price a vehicle for you." Because you know, just like a toddler, if you present her with choices, she'll never make up her mind.

"What car were you interested in?" Betting all the Botox in BevHil that it's a VW New Beetle or Mini-Cooper.

"Uuuuuuummmmmm...I theeeeeeenk....hmmm. Well....like....which one do YOU like?"

Spitefully, you're tempted to suggest a Chevrolet Aveo because you know for a fact she's got no clue what that is. Instead:

"The new VW Beetle is very cute and comes in a convertible."

"Oh, yeah!!!! I like that one. So, uh, how much is it?"

"$**,***. Are there any options you'd like to add to your estimate?"

"Like what?"

"Well, like an upgraded stereo, or leather seats, or perhaps a nifty set of rims?" Christ, you're talking like her now.

"Oh, no I don't want any of that. So, uh, what now?"

"I can either transfer you to a live agent who will provide you with financing options, availability and the final price, or we can have them contact you when it's convenient. Which would you prefer?"

.....(silence)....

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Which would you prefer?"

"Oh. Could you repeat that? The thingy about final price or whatever?"

*sigh*

"Would you like to speak to someone regarding the final price now? Or would you like them to contact you at a later time?"

"Ummm....well, can't YOU give me the price?"

"Well, the pricing screen is on the page in front of you, on the computer."

"Well...can't you do it for me?" tee hee. That freaking hair-flipping, nail-chewing, lip-pouting giggle that all girls over 12 and under 20 have managed to perfect.

"Ma'am, I did give you the price. Do you want to speak with a sales rep now or later?"

"Ummm. I don't know. What would you do?"

Once again, it's toddler time.

"If you'll give me your phone number, we'll have someone call you in a jiffy."

"GREAT!"

Now that your IQ has dipped lower than value of the American dollar, you feel the need to purge yourself of that walking M&M and look forward to greeting the next caller.

At least the Perv doesn't call back, unlike his older brother, The Stalker.

It won't matter what you say to this buffoon. His head is so stuffed with pot and p***o, he couldn't find a coherent sentence with a Tom-Tom and a flashlight.

"How may I help you?"

"Well, I'm hoping you can help me. What's your name?" Think of something so unsexy, it'll make him vomit.

"Greta. How may I help you?"

"Greta...sounds sexy. How long have you been working there?" You probably could have chosen Imohtep and he'd still be panting.

"How can we help you today?"

"I'm not sure. I might not have dialed the right number but I sure am glad I'm talking to you. Where are you guys located?"

Oh, God, make it stop.

Freaking Larry the Lounge Lizard in his polyester suit had more finesse.

It will continue until you finally, er, cut him off. It's too much of an effort to call back - he'll just start flipping through his Yellow Pages and dialing at random.