An unwanted mother

Tigger (as we shall call her) has assumed herself the mother of our little band of agents at AT&T. She actually refers to herself as "the mom". I do not know what power came about to influence this woman to decide that she was the AT&T mom, but I will not allow it. I never asked her to be my mom. I have never referred to her as "mom," nor will I ever! I have but one earthy mother, and it would be a mockery to compare Tigger to my angelic mother. It would be an abomination to even put Tigger in the same sentence as my mom.

Admittedly, you can consider our group a type of a family. A stretch, yes, but nonetheless there are some similarities. We have a authoritative figure who dictates what we do, like a father. We are all like brothers and sisters, arguing, collaborating, bonding, but that is only due to the forced space that we have been put in for seven weeks. We even take a weekly dinner together. But this is a work family. I do not call any of them my brother or sister. So where in the heck did Tigger get this idea that she could actually call us "Baby" or "Honey"?!

The only woman that I want to call me those familiar terms, is my future wife. Not some lonely woman who wishes we were her kids! That may sound harsh, but it is true. I do not want that kind of a relationship. A quick litmus test I have to determine if I am friends with someone, I picture me hugging them. If it was awkward in my mind, then they aren't really that close of a friend. Tigger, the most you are getting is a limp fish hand shake.

What really got me all peeved about her attempting to be our mother is when she started to try and govern us. She would scold us for doing things. That doesn't sit well with me at all. For instance, I was teasing this girl about her small hands (they are so small. If I did tease her, I couldn't live with myself), and Tigger attempts to block my jokes and try to make me feel guilty. I looked at her in shock as she then called herself mom. I am going to make it clear that she is not the mother of this rebel. H no.

Baptism by fire.

This past Wednesday I took my first phone call.... I work for AT&T. I am an agent.

I have been tossing and turning in the night of how to present this event. I am still reeling from the effects that it had on me. Truly incredible. I am a changed man because of it. Thus the title. Maybe a little sacrilegious... perhaps it would be better to say that I have gone through the right of passage that every customer care agent must: making a complete fool of yourself.

The class sat around the table. Debating among themselves who should go. All had questions in their hearts. Wondering who would be the brave hero to save them all from pointless busy work and take a live call. Who would rise to the occasion? David, the beloved, arose from amidst the strewn chairs, grabbed his password sheet, and went before the class and into the dark and unforgiving world. Everyone held their breath. Would this soul be tainted or enlightened due to battle which was about to commence. All eyes were peeled upon this naive man.

In front of all he put on his headset, sat, entered the various codes and numbers in order to receive a call. A call that would come from some part of the vast universe. A caller who would never see or know what kind of man David was, his heart, or who he would become. David waited, with his trainer at his side. The class sat motionless, not daring to breath, fearing that it may just break any chances of luck the knight would need.

The phone beeped. David answered in the standard welcome. For some odd reason the number didn't show on his screen. He asked the caller for the number... several times. Even more queer was that the number kept changing. At first it ended in all 7's, then it had an 8, and finally had a 0 8 and 7. The young agent's head almost exploded from anxiety. Finally, the number went through and a name came up with the title of Ms. "It couldn't be," thought the agent. "I am speaking with a man. This is a man's voice!" That was the cardinal sin, thinking. "So, Mr. ____ what can I do for you today," said David. "It's MS!____." The agents face dropped. He was dead sure he was speaking to a man. It was the queerest thing ever. Questions were asked. Answers couldn't be found. The tension in the air was stifling. The heavens looked down and helped the poor lad and disconnected him. The class roared in laughter.

However, the agent had become a man. Just like Jake Sully when he conquered the Ikran and became apart of the Nav'i people. Or just like Leonidas, who killed the wolf at the tender age of 13. Okay, it wasn't that incredible... it was just really embarrassing. I don't know if many can understand where I am coming from, but it was really quite a daunting task. I guess anytime we attempt to do something new it can seem too tasking and difficult. The next call went a lot better. I did end up callin the Ms. back and gave her the answers she needed.

Hiding from doing nothing.

Convergys is probably one of the most boring places of employment. I would say that we sit for around for about 2 hours out of the day. That may be an exaggeration, but it feels like it. It was OK at first. I practiced pencil tricks, drew, poked fun at others, or read. I recently have been forgetting my book, and I am getting too good at pencil tricks. My new thing is hiding.

There aren't many good places to hide. There are cameras everywhere. The best place to hide is the Men's bathroom. I usually choose the second stall. It is the darkest. The lights aren't directly shining over it. I also can txt freely in there. We aren't allowed to have our phones out when we are around the computers... we have access to some highly sensitive information. The stall also has probably one of the most intense locks I have ever seen in a bathroom. It is a flat, four inch, shinny metallic bar. It rotates around and rest on its ledge, insuring that no one will visit me.

Some times I just sit there, wondering what the heck I am doing in this place? What is going on in the real world? How many times could I have beaten Super Mario in the amount of time I have wasted? Other times, I just don't do anything, ironic. For some reason I would rather do nothing alone. Clear mind, blank stare, and open mouth, almost drooling. I shake myself awake, return to the classroom, sit down at my chair, and sigh. A broken and defeated man.

Then, this song comes to mind. Sharam ft. Kid Cudi, She came along.

"I work for AT&T"

Three to midnight. Five days a week, for seven weeks of "training". Eight dollars an hour. At the end you should be able to handle any situation that you may encounter as a customer rep. Problems vary from dropped calls, billing inquires, and delayed rebates. Sounds exciting. Well, I work for AT&T. And within the first two hours of orientation I was planning my own suicide.

The first day was incredible. Incredibly boring. Incredibly frustrating. Incredibly odd.

There are so many characters working for Convergys, that it should be a reality show. I think Mark Burnett should look into it. Just hide cameras throughout the building and watch these people interact with each other.

Walking through the door you immediatley notice Bob, the rent-a-security guard. His over gelled hair screams of a guy stuck in the past. A two year vet, he takes his job very serious, scanning his computer screen with 10 different video feeds.

Once in the classroom you discover secrets about your associates that are volunteered too easily. One lady stands and tells of her seven boys, two of which were still born. A woman, with painted on eyebrows, proclaims herself the cat savior, harboring 61 cats. Her cats differ in age, intelligence, and care. On the other side of the room, a Newcastle resident boasts of her degree of Elementary Education from SUU. Finally, one speaks of the fear of interacting with people.

Nothing compares to the instructor, or training, named Bradley. However, he would prefer you to call him B-Rad. B-Rad is an energetic man, who isn't afraid to make a complete fool of himself. The guy is growing on me, but initially I wanted to punch him. He loves to sing. He recreates classic songs, like Three Dog Night's Joy to the World, Rolf Harris' The Kangaroo Song, and ACDC's Thunderstruck. His voice isn't terrible, but every songs seems to have his awful face shake sound. I don't know what else to call it. He loosens his face, shakes it, and makes a guitar like sound. I searched for a giant brick to throw at him when I first heard it, but surprisingly I found no such object.

Then he has a laugh that isn't human. I can usually imitate how a person laughs or sounds. His is unearthly. The laugh is.... something that must be heard, not explained. I guess you could just say that it will drive a sane man insane. Or in the words of Dane Cook "There are certain sounds in this world, that when you hear them, they make you react in certain ways... some sounds soothing... but then there are certain sounds in this world, that for whatever reason just the way it hits you, it makes you want to punch to punch a baby. It makes you want to punch a baby. God forbid that you're in a nursery when you hear the sound. You go on a baby punching tangent." His laugh is the sound that makes me want to punch infants. Luckily his wife is deaf.

I am sure that I will make some more posts.