research?
Caller: Of course I mind, but go ahead.
Then I frantically wave a checkered flag until Glenn or a team lead comes to my rescue. That’s nesting in a nutshell. We’re just dazed, lost and confused the whole time, crying HELLLLP!
Everything made sense in class, but on the phone, I suddenly feel like a fish out of water. I haven’t the faintest clue what I’m doing. My troubleshooting consists of taking tentative shots in the dark.
Thank God for Glenn and the team leads, they’re our saviors.
But I quickly discover that they’re not the biggest life savers.
As it turns out, the biggest life saver is not a person, but an inconspicuous, yet highly significant button on the phone—the ‘Not Ready’ button.
This discovery was huge and all-encompassing, parallel to stumbling upon the Holy Grail. I owe it my youth, I owe it my sanity, and without it, I’m certain I would’ve aged tenfold.
When I’m in ‘Not Ready,’ it means a call cannot come through, because hey—I’m not ready to take one!
How fab! It’s meant for completing technical tickets, and for emergencies (I think); but most of us just end up staying in ‘Not Ready’ to take a breather from taking call after call, after call, after call. The ‘Not Ready’ button is revered as a Godsend, and is hailed amongst us as mankind’s greatest invention, the pinnacle of human achievement, even better than sliced bread.
During my ‘nesting’ period, I keep a diary and here it is, unveiled in all its nightmarish gory.
Maddy’s Nesting Dairy:
Number of calls taken = 488
Number of pills popped = 2 bottles (Tylenol Extra Strength)
Number of times I felt like shoving my head in the oven = 1000
Day 1 of nesting – I hate, hate, hate being on the phones. Feel utterly hopeless and confused. Sometimes instead of pushing the Hold button, I accidentally jab the Release key right next to it. I blame my fat fingers. Also, I stay in ‘Not Ready’ a lot. It is my haven. By the end of the day, I feel like going home and SHOVING MY HEAD IN THE OVEN!
Day 2 of nesting – Good news: I did not shove my head in the oven. Bad news: I’m still alive, back in this garish call center, being repeatedly abused over the phone.
Day 3 of nesting – Things are improving. Occasionally I feel lost, but I’m learning to use my ‘resources,’ aka the knowledge base. Transferring calls to other departments, or worse, conferencing calls with a third party is all a blurry mystery to me. Still using ‘Not Ready.’ If it’s there, why not use it, right?
Day 4 of nesting – Feel more comfortable on the phone and with the phone buttons now. The calls are going smoothly. My ultra-secret weapon: bullshitting. I make certain I sound 100% sure that I know what I’m doing, even when I haven’t the foggiest idea, because once the callers sense I’m unsure, they pounce on me like a pack of wolves and question every single thing I tell them. But now that I’m on BS mode, everything is just fine and dandy. Well, all except for the fact that an 8 hour shift is equivalent to 8 hours of callers bashing me nonstop.
Don’t feel the urge to jab ‘Not Ready’ as much now; am becoming slightly more competent.
Day 5 of Nesting – Hey, this is a piece of cake! Don’t need to resort to BS as much, but I whip it out when desperate measures call for it. Suddenly, things are starting to click. I actually know what I’m doing. ‘Not Ready’ is only used when I feel I deserve a much needed break. Hmm. Perhaps I’ll go home and bake myself some chocolate chip cookies in the oven.
On the very last day of nesting, I’m like a bird, ready to sprout my wings, leave my nest and soar. After logging on to my phone, I whack the calls, one by one, out of the ball park!
I skip the ‘selling’ part, since I’m not held accountable for my sales quotas, at least not yet.
But I’m pumped! I feel a thrill, a rush of adrenalin like I’m flying a plane solo for the very first time. I am Amelia Earhart. Let’s hope I don’t crash this plane. Bring ‘em on!
Beep!
“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications, this is Maddy. What can I do for you today?”
“Habla español ?”
“Hola señor! Um, como estas. Sorry...no,” I say in my broken, hacked up Spanish. “I…err…no habla espanol. Uno momento por favor.” Then