Here’s the problem. Unlike my new fellow graduates, I cannot go off to college or move out on my own. By this point I’ve learned how to dress and shower myself but I and no anyone else has figured out a way I can put on my own socks. My feet have poor circulation and although the winters here are not severe it is still too cold for me to go without socks. So for the time being, I’m stuck at home living with Mom and Dad. They never made an issue of it knowing there was not much I could do. But before I could even begin to think about how to move out and be independent, I had to find some type of work I could do using my head.
Not long after graduating from college, through a friend of a friend, I found this job doing phone surveys. I call this type of work being in head set hell. It was a part time evening gig in a large building housing a small mall and many offices. The training lasted all of one night and one or two did not return after the dinner break. They had seen too much already. We had to call people out of the blue and then find smokers willing to take anywhere from five to fifty minute surveys. It was no easy task, I can tell you. This was long before most work places had no smoking policies. The place was always filled with a carcinogenic bluish fog and smelled of stale tobacco and strong coffee that had been sitting out too long. It was a job designed in some Orwellian hell. The supervisors listened in on many of our calls and got on us if we deviated at all from the given script. The survey I was all about smoking. How much do you smoke? Why do you smoke? What is your income level? What is your education level? The questions would go on and on. Some people loved taking the surveys but many simply hung up around question number three. Leaving each night I would think to myself there had to be something better. Had I really gone to college to be a phone surveyor? But it was nice getting a paycheck I had earned on my own and I hung in there for a few more miserable months. Two of those I called woke me up to what I was really doing and helped pull me out of the smelly bluish fog.
“This is Paul from Acme Product Survey Company we are doing market research on tobacco users, may I speak to Bill?”
“Paul, Bill died three days ago from lung cancer.” She was an older woman and deadly serious and not too happy to hear such a request.
I told her I was sorry for her loss and hung up.
I ran the same line by another person.
“Paul I am a smoker but in no way want to help in any way the tobacco industry. So I will not take any survey from them.” He was polite but firm.
Shortly after talking to these two people, I realized I did not want to help big tobacco either gave a two week notice and left. It felt really good leaving that place for the last time. I cannot do work I do not believe in and I hope this never changes no matter how broke I am. But I had to find a new job.
I went to my local unemployment office (the same place I work now) and they referred me to another State Agency, Vocational Rehabilitation. I think it took about a month or two to even get an appointment. First, to determine if I was indeed eligible for services, they had to determine if I was really handicapped. Forget what your lying eyes tell you, this is a task for authorities, medical authorities. A few more months go by and I get signed up. Then, we had to develop a plan for me to find work. I liked Mike, the guy I was working with but each visit was a bit like being in a slow motion Saturday Night live Skit. He sat by the door next to the reception room where the receptionist greeted patrons with all the warmth of a death camp gas chamber operator. Despite the open door and the twenty feet of separation they would talk on the intercom slowly. I would just sit there taking in the surreal experience. This was my introduction to government in action working for me. Each visit went pretty much the same; Mike slowly reading me paperwork while my eyes tried to glaze over, my repeating that I understood and both of us signing mundane but important looking documents. For them, finding me a job was another tick mark proving they were accomplishing their mission. Getting me a good job was secondary, any job would do for VR.
Mike sent me to one place that made some kind of household cleaner like stuff. They were known to hire (exploit?) the handicapped. I was less than thrilled but I decided to play along and see where it would lead. It was dark, dingy and smelled like ammonia. The place looked like a cross between a meth lab and a mortuary minus the cadavers. I would be cleaning plastic bottles and filling them. There was no place to sit. You had to stand at a long linoleum table and do this all day. I showed up around lunch time and most of the workers were gone. Being handicapped has its advantages from time to time. I told the guy I could not stand for long periods of time and politely eased out the door glad to see there was still sunshine. How could I maintain my Buick Grand National as a bottle cleaner? I doubt it would work well in bars looking for possible dates either. I needed something else.
We ruled out manufacturing after that. Mike sent me around to various staffing companies. I also found places to apply on my own. Now, I could wow them during a phone interview. Everyone tells me I have a good phone voice. I would get all excited thinking I had a job and go meet the people I had just talked to and as soon as I walked in, the thermostat would drop around thirty degrees. The script varied little from place to place but would go something like this:
Me: Hi, we talked on the phone about the Administrative Assistant job.
Cute Recruiter With Too Much Make Up: “Who are you again?”
Me: I’m Paul LaVack, we just talked on the phone just this morning about me being a good fit for the Administrative Assistant job. You said I sounded like a great match and asked me to come in today at 2pm.”
Cute Recruiter With Too Much Make Up: “Oh, just leave your resume. I think we filled that job. I’ll check with my manager and get back to you.”
Me: “Here is my resume. Thanks!”
Sure a little better looking but still the warmth of a gas chamber operator.
Then no call and I would never hear from them again.
I don’t know how many times I repeated the same lines almost work for word. But it was way too many. I knew nothing of ADA and discrimination and Mike forgot to tell me. No, I in no way blame him. I should have looked into it. It is my job search and I need to know what the deal is, not a government bureaucrat’s fault. Still, it would be an uphill battle to prove such a thing and what would I get in the end? It would not exactly win me any popularity contests if I was hired by one of these places. Eventually, Mike and I realized I could use my good voice and answer a phone for somebody.
With Mike’s help, I eventually found a job back in headset hell headset hell. I went to work for a nationally known retailer who had a call center here. The building looked like an oversized windowless concrete bunker painted a pale blue. The inside was even less exciting. Walking in the front door, to the left and right are small offices for human resources, management and computer people. Go straight and open a door and you would find “the floor.” The floor is a huge windowless room full of round pods of six work stations. Each work station has a keyboard, computer screen and a large rack of catalogs. Inside there is no natural light, just ever present fluorescents. In the days before on line shopping, people ordered merchandise via mail or on the phone by calling an 800 number. I would answer those calls looking at a simple green and black computer screen. The company was not bad and I got along well with my co-workers. I would get one of them to help me with my headset each day and then start taking calls.
The job was needless to say, boring. The more interesting part was watching and listening to some of my more colorful co-workers. There was the young African American guy who to keep himself entertained he would do his best imitation of a country redneck guy. He would not say anything bad to customers, just use a goofy sounding voice. Then there were the call avoiders, those who would do anything to avoid doing what they were hired to do, answer calls. People can be quite ingenious but it seemed easier to me to just do the time and go home. I never had a problem with a really irate customer but people around me would from time to time. Listening to the conversation could be the most entertaining part of the day.
People can be so irrational sometimes. When dealing with someone at the other end of a customer service number keep in mind the most likely did not create the problem, losing your cool and yelling like an asshole will make them more interested in getting rid of you than solving the problem. I did not have any major problems. I learned by trial and error how to best resolve customer issues while keeping everybody happy. Man, the job may have been boring but I always gave it 100% effort. I showed up early every day and missed very few days. The best worker in the world is worthless when they are out. I feel this is what I’m supposed to do and to do less is unacceptable to me. I want the company to know they made a good decision in hiring me and I may need them for a reference sometime down the road. It was good to gain the work experience but doing part time phone jobs was doing nothing to help me gain independence. I knew I had to get more education and Mom and Dad agreed. It was not ideal living at home while going to community college and later the local university but it sure saved a lot of money and hassle.
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