i am not cut out for working the front desk

xxpost

"hi, can you connect me with [x]?"

"may i ask who's calling?"

"jdjhfjdhn dfhdhfduynj."

"er...."

I just write them down. Otherwise I end up with an amalgam of the name of the person calling and the person being called.

That's why I just volunteer the info immediately in case they're too shy to inquire.

xxxpost

they could say, "could you get me [x] please?" or at least "thank you" after i've said "i'll connect you"...

WTF?

OTM. I think about this a lot.

*dies*

(I hate banal office jokes.)

I do feel funny about doing it like that, though. That's why I always drop my voice an octave lower when I call the number.

"I have told YOU at least four times in the last year and I still get your magazines."
"But I've only worked here a few months and we've never spoken before."

that sounds normal, they mean "YOU" as in "the company you work for"

One of the more terrifyingly insane people here says 'Happy Friday" to each and every person on Fridays. I wish I could put her in a wood chopper.

you should totally take advantage of this, even if it amuses only you. "yeah, that guy you spoke to last month sure sounds like an asshole."

It's even worse when it's like:

ME: Hi, how are you?
HIM: PEPSI

HER: [walking up to the tiny candy store counter I work at and standing there about three feet infront of me and talking on a cell phone, ready to acknowledge my existence AT ANY SECOND AND I BETTER BE READY]

HER: GIRL, NO SHE DIDN'T! Uh uh! NO SHE DIDN'T! I can't believe that. Mmm hmm. I can't believe that. [looks at me] PEPSI. NO SHE DIDN'T!! OH NO!! OH NO!!

God, I fucking WISH people would do this here. I have to deal with people going "Um. (long pause) Um. (long pause) Um, I was just calling. And I was wondering." etc. etc. YES I KNOW YOU WERE CALLING, I AM ON THE LINE WITH YOU.

DUDE: Yeah, this is [barely intelligible hillbillyspeak, the closest I can guess is MELCHISS], I need me a copy of my fleet card for my trucks.

MOI: What's the name of your company, sir?

DUDE: CALL A LAMB A DING DONG

MOI: Um, could you spell that for me? I'm having trouble bringing it up.

DUDE: Yessir.

MOI: [brief pause] Come again, sir?

DUDE: What?

MOI: Could you please spell the name of your company for me?

DUDE: [finally!] SEE OH EL OH EN WHY...[disturbingly long pause] INCORPORATED

The gas station where I get my coffee in the mornings has a sign that says We'll be happy to wait on you after you have concluded your cell call. I will be patronizing that place until I'm gone.

girl: Um, hi, I have a question.
(pause)
me: Ok, what is the question?
girl: What's the earliest someone can come in there?
me: Well, we open at 9.
girl: no, I mean, how far can you be before you can have an abortion.
me: well, you need to be at least about 4 weeks.
girl: no, I mean...before you CAN'T.
me: in TN, you have to be less than 16 weeks.
girl: ok, I am 10 weeks.
(long pause)
me: ok
girl: so is that ok?
me: yes, as ten weeks is indeed less than 16.
girl: am I talking to the right person?

WTF

-- roxymuzak (emilysu...), December 30th, 2004 12:54 PM. (roxymuzak)

YES. PEOPLE: TRY AND FIGURE OUT WHY YOU'RE MAKING A PHONE CALL BEFORE YOU DIAL THE PHONE NUMBER.

Also: people asking everything twice. I nearly started a thread about this the other day. I remember a time, in my youth, when people asked questions once. I swear to God, this is like some cultural upheaval in which EVERYONE asks EVERY question TWICE.

"What time are you closing?"
"5:30."
"At 5:30?"
"FLIP YES FUCKTARD WHAT ARE YOU DEAF?!"
"That's correct."

MOI: We've moved into our new building, right down L0chn3ss. The address is 3245. There is a big sign at the entrance to the driveway that says 3245. It shouldn't be too hard to find, it's only about 300 yards away from where you are right now.

DUDE: What side of the road is it on.

MOI: [choking back urge to run outside and shoot this asshat with a harpoon gun, because this building is LITERALLY the ONLY building on L0chn3ss] It's on the left, sir.

(at this point I am suddenly thrown from thoroughly annoyed to awestruck at the fact that this conversation still isn't over)

DUDE: Are you near a window or something? Can you see me out here?

MOI: [what I wanted to say] YOU SHOULD SEE A BUILDING ON THE LEFT, AND A POND ON THE RIGHT. PLEASE DRIVE INTO THE POND AND WAIT THERE FOR ME TO CALL YOU BACK. WHICH I'M NOT GOING TO DO.

MOI: [what I said] Um, no sir, but there is an 4c+10n 8us1n3ss 5uppl13rs truck out front.

DUDE: Oh, okay, I'm here.

MOI: YAY HOORAY DUMBSHITS - 1, EVOLUTION - 0

Also wouldn't it be great if when you're earning an hourly wage, you could decide to sign up for a six-hour work day, say, instead of eight? It seems like it's only minimum-wage jobs where you can work part-time.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

xpost

Um, NO! Actually your uterus and your stomach are DIFFERENT THINGS. Or perhaps you thought that when you ate, your food went to your WOMB. Or perhaps you thought that when you had BABIES, you SHAT THEM OUT OF YOUYR INTESTINES. And how wonderful that you're finding all this birds and bees shit out when you're having a flipping HYSTERECTOMY, LADY!

I would have laughed out loud.

(sorry, roxy)

But I mean if I had an office job that involved reading shitty sci-fi scripts I'd be happy.

xxpost

I've worked at a few different places and there's always a quota. Most of these companies hire 15 people every day (basically EVERYONE who applies) and fires the majority of the ones who don't quit.

The worst are the dudes who call and are like "Hey, we're the people who supply your office's printer and copier with toner? If I could just get the numbers off the front of your machine real quick?"

Me: "Um, actually, I bought the toner for the copier at Sam's Tuesday night. Where were you, bro?"

LIARS!

ok, someone is oversensitive...

anyway, to repeat, i hope i get into fucking grad school holy shit

xpost

xpost

Haha, my girlfriend's brother does this and that fact that he keeps getting promoted really worries me.

don't know if this was covered elsewhere, but grad school doesn't guarantee the happy fun time job you might think. but then, even my former job as a unionized adjunct lecturer in CUNY didn't exactly pay the bills...

xpost

x-p

temping is a drag of course. i got blacklisted in Philly after trying to organize a bunch of my fellow temps after we were promised a pay raise (which we never got). i quit before they could fire me.

now i'm loath to go back to grad school for my ph.d. since tenure tracked positions are kinda tough to find, particularly when your partner has a steady, well-paid job.

xpost everywhere.

ME: Good morning, can I help you?
THEM: Can I speak to the person in charge?
ME: Yes, that's me, can I help you?
THEM: No, dear, can you put me through to whoever's in charge?
ME: Yes, that would be me, can I help you?
THEM: No dear, can I speak to your boss?
ME: I am my boss. Unless you want me to redirect your call to a bloke in a suit in New York somewhere. (I'm in central Scotland, btw, and no-one from further than the middle of England ever wants to speak to someone that apparently isn't me)
THEM: Really, I need to speak to the manager?
ME: Yes, can I help you...

etc, etc, etc.

Tossers.

Doesn't help that one of my colleagues, whenever he phones someone that doesn't help him, always says something like "what does she know, she's just the wee woman that answers the phone". Yes, SO AM I. BECAUSE ASSHATS LIKE YOU DON'T BOTHER BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU'RE IMPORTANT, THEN ASSHATS LIKE YOU THINK I'M SOME ASSHATTISH LITTLE PHONE-ANSWERING MINION WITH NO OTHER SKILLS OR POWERS OR ABILITIES OTHER THAN THE ABILITY TO ANSWER THE PHONE.

Grrrr.

Also: in my personal experience the asshat-culling took place while calling for charitable donations (police and veterans' associations) in the state of Wisconsin. I don't know how that ranks, uselessness-wise. The most successful guy was a complete uber-asshat who would amuse himself by putting on fake folksy accents, making up imaginary disabled veterans, telling the occasional racist joke, and just generally being a condescending prick in that particular way that allows people to seem comfortable and friendly (read: “of course I’m comfortable, so far as I’m concerned you’re not even a human being”). As soon as the phones went down he was one of the most disappointing human beings I’ve ever encountered.

(Amst: I can't tell which!)

Haha, at holiday place there was a schmuck who did this, who, if his end of their calls is any sort of indicator, will certainly be killing his wife in cold blood at some point.

Seriously, worst job ever.

The amount of times I'd then get this baffled silence, with "..oh" and then the question.... grrr. YES I AM A GIRL BUT OMG I KNOW HOW TO FIX0R TEH POOTERS!

Aw. I must confess I did this in a record shop only yesterday.

To my abject *shame* and *embarrassment*, my gut feeling on seeing the two staff behind the counter were GIRLS, was "oh no, they're *never* gonna be able to help me with my two vaguely finnicky requests, they won't get my boy-like vernacular" or somesuch total utter shit.

And then they didn't have a clue what I was talking about, and had to grab the BOY from out the back, who solved my problems in a matter of seconds.

Not sure what to make of this ;-)

Temping on reception is horrific unless you have a few weeks and can get into things. I praise highly places that provide a nice manual for incoming staff/temps, and will always do this on leaving a job unless I really want to screw the organisation.

*right after/during the BSE saga
hi, you know your beef meals..
yes?
are they made with young beef?
er.. pardon?
do you use young beef?
what do you mean? beef from young cows?
yeah
(confused) sure.. all below the age of 10.
great! i'll have a beef chow mein.

*right after/during the BSE saga
[cust] hi, you know your beef meals..
[ken] yes?
[cust] are they made with young beef?
[ken] er.. pardon?
[cust] do you use young beef?
[ken] what do you mean? beef from young cows?
[cust] yeah
[ken] (confused) sure.. all below the age of 10.
[cust] great! i'll have a beef chow mein.

*customer arrives.. i have a bad habit of always spinning a pen around my fingers, he sees this
[customer] hey that's pretty cool! where did you learn to do that
[ken] it's an ancient chinese art
[customer] oh, is it?
[ken] no
[customer] oh, i'll have a beef chow mein then

Me: Good afternoon, Super-Duper DAW Emporium.
Cust: Hi, can I speak to someone about making music on the computer?
Me: Sure, go ahead - what's your question?
Cust: Well, I here that this MIDI software is really something else.
Me: (Mentally scrolling through a list of products that this guy may have heard of) Well, which MIDI program were you interested in, sir?
Cust: Y'know, MIDI!
Me: Yes, but which program were you interested in gett-
Cust: (agitated) Y'know, MIDI software!!! God! Don't you sell that?

At which point I have to explain to the guy that he's looking for a specific application, and that just saying "Y'know, MIDI" is like saying "Y'know, design software".
I give him the names of some popular programs, suggest some websites to check out, and politely-but-firmly advise him to call back when he's "a little more familiar with the concepts".

I know y'all use 'pooters' in reference to computers but, in household at least, 'pooter' refers to something quite different.