When working for Manchester based ambulance chasers "Legal Advice Bureau"
the highlight of my career was discovering that a 10 year old boy had cut off his finger at school after a metal gate slammed onto it.

Apparently the gate should have been locked so the school was sued. On the bright side I received £60.

Get in.
( Fitznicely into a thimble, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 12:04, Reply)

My auntie used to answer 999 calls
Auntie: Which service do you require?
Small boy: Fire engine.
Auntie: Is there a fire?
Small boy: No.
Auntie: Why do you want the fire engine?
Small boy: I want to see the big red truck!
Auntie: Is your mummy there?
Small boy: Yes.
Auntie: Can I speak to her please?

(Auntie explains to small boy's mum that he's been calling 999. She hears a *thwack* down the phone as the boy cops it from his mum)

Five minutes later...

Auntie: Which service do you require?
Small boy: Fire engine.
Auntie: Is there a fire?
Small boy: No, I want to see the big red truck.
Auntie: Is your mummy there?
Small boy: Yes.
Auntie: Can I speak to her please?
Small boy: No.
Auntie: Why not?
Small boy: Cos if you do, she'll hit me again...
(moogal has eggs, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 12:02, 2 replies)

Is still on the line.....
Everyone has been put on hold, sometimes for hours, so here's what you do. If you get a cold caller, put them on hold and play Glen Campbell's "wichita linesman" on repeat - every time. I guarantee they will not call back.
(WOGAN'S WIG FIXER, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 11:57, 4 replies)

Tesco net & Virginmobile
I seem to get happy call centres to deal with most of the time and I don't bother to answer my phone if it's an 08000/ withheld/ International or another obvious number.
Everytime I have called Virgin I wonder if they are pumping nitrous in to the room, have managers standing over them with whips or if it's actually just a nice place to work as they always seem to sound genuinely happy!

I'd also just like to say thanks to Michael (I think that's his name)at Tesco net, when I called up to ask for a MAC and he said "You mean a Mac code, not a rain mac don't you?" We then had a brief chat about whether you should say code if the last letter of the acronym stands for code. He then apologised and told me his son had passed all his GCSEs. Really no apology needed it's nice to hear a personality shine through sometimes rather than just scripted talk.
(cmouse is pondering about life in other jobs, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 11:52, 3 replies)

I make
regular charitable donations to the NSPCC, Barnardo's, NDCS, and amnesty international - have done for years. It's only a few quid to each one, but it helps.
The fuckers keep calling every now and then to get me to increase the payments. The next one to call is going to get their donations stopped - hehe.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 11:45, 2 replies)

Fans! Pens! Stupidity!
We all know that there is an at best adversarial relationship between Joe Public and call centres. At worst, they view each other with outright contempt or hostility. When I did my stint at T-Mobile, I got a mixture of the angry, retarded, and of course, the nice people.

And of course, as the weeks wore into months, I got bored. Very bored. And we all know the consequences that can create, especially in a call centre.

When this happened, it was in the middle of summer, and the office was hotter than Satan's left armpit. And smelled about the same as well. However, I was one of the lucky ones who had a fan on his desk. But, being the bored b3tan I was, I started to fiddle. My chosen method of fiddling? Poking a pen through the bars of the fan, just to hear the slight rattling noise, that's all. But it never works that way, does it? It certainly didn't that day. I was half-listening to a customer in the background, moaning about 20p on her bill or something. And I was employing my chosen method of fiddling, when the customer said something that made me sit up and take notice. With the pen still in my hand.

Which was promptly ripped out of my hand, into the fan, creating a noise along the lines of "BBBBBBBBRASSHKJDDADSSDAADADADAD RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE". I've never moved so fast in my life. Soon enough, the fan was turned off, but I noticed three things. The first of which was an irate manager heading my way. The second was the customer asking what the hell that noise was. The third was every single person in the call centre looking at me. Close to 1000 people. I've never been so embarrassed in my life, apart from that time with... well that's another story.

And they confiscated my fan. Bastards.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Fri 4 Sep 2009, 11:35, 4 replies)

"Hi! For your information..."
Some call centre outbound operators are the most soulless pricks on the planet...

Me: Good Morning, [company name] , glasnt speaking.
Insufferable prick: Hi! For your information it is currently 'Provincial Organizations Annual Drive for Goats in Rwoanda'...
Me: I'm sorry, there is no-one at this number that is interested in your charity, as we are already invovled with a number of organisations to help the less fortunate. [/company speel]
Insuff. Prick: .. and it is our pleasure to inform you of our exciting sponsorship opportunities
Me: I'm sorry, I'm getting another call. Have a nice day.

.. melody of Sims-esk conversation occurring ..

Me: 'Cuse me ma'am, could you just hold the line for a moment?
Madam with Manners: Sure thing, sweety.
Me: Thank you ma'am. I shant be a moment. Good Morning,
Insufferable, now murderous prick: HOW BLEEPING DARE YOU HANG UP ON ME!
Me: I beg your pardon sir, I think I explained to you how..
Insuff., screaming blue murder: I AM TALKING! Now! You need to watch your manners, you young git! Never. EVER! Hang up on a charity. [dial tone]
.. all colour draining from face ..

[transfers back to other line]

Me: I'm sorry for that ma'am...
Madam Manners: My goodness, are you ok? You sound like you've just seen a ghost.
Me: No, I'm ok, the person on the other line was but a telemarketer, I'm sorry for the interruption.
Madam Manners: So don't worry dear, if he was that c**t from the Goat Factory I had call the other morning, you should have just hung up on him. Insufferable git...
Me: :3


(True story. Turns out Madam Manners had a call from the same organisation, probably the same person, and had hung up on him for his cussing.)

(They really need to have better phone-monkeys at that place, otherwise there will be no goats this christmas)

(Names, charity name, removed to protect the c**t.)

I seriously need to stop using angle brackets, they keep being removed.
( glasnt is playing herself off., Fri 4 Sep 2009, 11:09, 12 replies)

Scary, lonely call centre staff
I used to work at a call centre and will hopefully have a few entries for later this week. This tale however is based on what happened to me when calling the monkeys at Halifax the early hours of (this recent bank holiday) Sunday morning.

My darling wife had gone out drinking with a few mates and had been relieved of her purse in one of Barnsley’s scummier night spots. As we had no babysitter I was sat back at home playing online at Grand Theft Auto when she called me from her mates mobile.

Realising that she was pissed as a fart I told her that I would ring up the card companies on her behalf and cancel her cards for her. I took the number from the back of my own bank card (same bank different account) and dialled up the lost card services number immediately after she put the phone down. What I forgot was that I was still mid way through a 30 minute online game and I was hoping to get my own back on a couple of the more hardcore players in the match.

I finally got through to the press 1 for stolen cards press 2 if you have stolen the card from someone options and spoke to the helpful bloke on the other end of the phone, sadly my concentration was more on the game than the conversation.

Halifax bloke: Sorry sir can you repeat that last statement I could have swore that you said something about Happiness Island (The level I was on)
Mon: Eh? Oh sorry. I’m playing a game at the moment and I’m pretty crap at multitasking.
Halifax bloke: That’s ok, what are you playing?
Mon: Erm Grand Theft Auto
Halifax bloke: Cool, whats your user ID
Mon: What? I’m cancelling the card for my wife, I don’t know her online info for the account, do you need it?
Halifax bloke: No no your online gamer tag. I need new people to play against and I’m sick of playing against randoms that play shitty R n B over their headset while playing Halo etc etc
Mon: Sorry but I have a PS3
Halifax bloke: oh ok …sighs…you know anyone else that has a 360?
Mon: A couple of people yes…
Halifax bloke: You could pass my name on to them if you like it’s blokefromhalifaxthatsscaringmenow
(awkward Silence)
Halifax bloke: You on facebook?
Mon: Erm…..
Halifax bloke: How about your wife? Does she have one?
Mon: have you cancelled her cards?
Halifax bloke: Oh yeah that was done a bit ago
Mon: Cheers I have to go......
*Click*

I don’t know if he was a mad lonely bloke or if he was scaring into me paying attention. I have also avoided my Facebook page since as I realse this bloke had my wifes personal details in front of him when we were speaking.

Also on another note I find it amusing that the company can deliver a new credit card in 2 - 3 days while you have to wait nearly 2 sodding weeks for an account card.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 11:05, 4 replies)

Smoothing things over
As I returned to my work station, Jim pushes back his chair and declares: “I need to take a shit,” before promptly stalking off to bogs. I wasn’t particularly surprised. Jim’s ringpeice saw more action during working hours than Freddy Mercury's at the gay mardigras after an afternoon spent snorting coke and quaffing poppers.

Jim was a lad who worked for me in the sales team at a large call centre and he basically had the most amazing digestive system I have ever come across in my life. I’m pretty certain that if he ever ate an entire cow during his morning break he would’ve successfully shat the whole thing out by dinnertime, hoofs and all.

We were working the late shift, as you tend to do in international sales. It was just Jim and I in the office – all the normal people who had social lives and families had long since fucked off to catch up on Coronation Street, drink a few beers, and attempt to ejaculate in the mouths of young virgins in the toilets of clubs. But Jim and I were stuck here. Him because he was down on the rota, me because some utter fucking retard had decided at some indistinct point in the past to make me the team leader.

So, Jim goes off to have a shit. Being bored and with absolutely fuck all work to do, I wait a few minutes and follow him. As a responsible team leader I see it as my duty to clog the sinks up with bog roll, put the taps on full twat, switch the lights off and make my escape cackling like a witch on acid.

I hang round outside the bogs. Jim finally appears. He does not seem too impressed. To make up for it I offer Jim a smoke and we stroll outside and have a couple each. It’s a nice evening. Quiet. Nobody about. Just us two talking about football and sex and the usual old bollocks. We start kicking a can round. Jim goes in goal. I score. We swap places.

Then after half an hour or so I decide we’d probably better go back to work. We stroll back inside, say “hello” to the old fella on the security desk who I swear was embalmed a few years ago, and we return to the office. And when I get there I glance at my monitor and have a bit of a panic. I’ve got a system on my PC that gives me call stats for everyone in the team. And there’s something on my screen that makes me want to shit myself.

I lift my headset, trembling, reach for the hold button: “Errr.... hello???”

“I’VE BEEN ON HOLD FOR NEARLY FORTY FUCKING MINUTES!!! IF I HAVE TO LISTEN TO TUBULAR FUCKING BELLS ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I SWEAR I’M GOING TO FIND OUT WHERE YOU ARE AND FUCKING HAVE YOU!!!”

Took quite a while to smooth that one over and when I pressed the END CALL key, I turned to Jim and in my best team leader voice said: “Err, Jim – next time you go for a shit finish the call - don’t just put someone on hold.”
( SpankyHanky, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:49, 2 replies)

Awesome timing.
Short but sweet, I've been in mine for nearly three years, straight out of uni (with an Arts degree, naturally enough). It's alright work, but at the end of the day it's still a call centre.

I interviewed for two internal positions in other departments this week and find out early next week if I'm gonna be promoted, and get a big payrise :)I'm in the final two for one position.

Apologies for lack of whinge.
(Angie the Redneck Wonder, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:36, 3 replies)

Sales calls at work.
You can always tell in about 2 seconds if the call you have just answered is a cold sales call. I now normally deal with them in the following way.

Phone rings:
Me: "Hello, £$%^ how can I help?"
Caller: "hi , Yes I would like to speak to XYZ"
Me: "and what might this call be regarding"
Caller: "We, have a important business opportunity for him"
Me: "OK, let me transfer you".... {hang up}

5 mins later phone rings:
Me: "Hello, £$%^ how can I help?"
Caller: "hi , Yes I just called but got cut off I would like to speak to XYZ"
Me: "and what might this call be regarding"
Caller: "We, have a important business opportunity for him"
Me: "OK, let me transfer you".... {hang up}

Repeat until they give up or get irate.

It always gets a few laughs in the office as different people get the same caller and repeat the same procedure.
(NateGS nooob, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:25, 7 replies)

Not funny...but useful..
Having trouble getting through to someone on an 0845 / 0870 number (these are known as non-geographical numbers in the trade)?

Go to www.saynoto0870.com and get the 'geographical' number. When you call the genuine number you'll still be presented with all the 'press one for...' bullshit. To bypass this and really piss the company off - simply change one or two of the digits at the end of the geographical number. This will undoubtedly connect you with someone's DDI (direct dial number)...anyone from the MD to the cleaning department. Keep experimenting until you find someone useful.

Adopting this approach with Carphone Warehouse (non-geo number: 0208 896 5000 - I hit the jackpot on 0208 896 5080), giving me direct access to a senior manager, who's immediate response was, 'how the hell did you get this number?' - to which I replied, 'my complaint was escalated to your department and I was transferred to speak to you.'

My £85 refund cheque arrived in three days time and my contract with Carphone Whorehouse was cancelled with immediate effect. Result.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:20, 21 replies)

Very nice lady
I have a strong feeling that nearly half the answers in this QOTW will fall under the category of "I work for a call centre and everybody that calls us is an utter mong", and nearly half will be along the lines "every time I phone a call centre the person I speak to is an utter mong".

As a counterpoint, I'd just like to mention that when I had to arrange my first and only mortgage (with a company that rhymes with Leg), the advisor who dealt with me throughout the whole process was so helpful, friendly and professional that I sent her a thank-you letter once everything was sorted. In proper handwriting and everything.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:06, 1 reply)

If you get called an awful lot, this might be an idea...
... if you've the time to set it up. Buy a premium rate phone number and set the rate to £5/min:
ezinearticles.com/?Buying-A-Premium-Rate-Number-All-You-Wanted-To-Know&id=511923
and every time someone tries to sell crap to you, say you're interested, but could they call back on the other line?
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:05, 5 replies)

You can stop this right now..
I haven't had a cold call for years. :) All because of TPS opting out.
www.mpsonline.org.uk/tps/
It will stop people like your own mobile company from calling you around upgrade time, but that's not a bad thing in my book. :)
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:53, 2 replies)

Could have gone in last week too....
Me: "Ambulance Emergency. What's the problem? Tell me exactly what's happened."

Caller: "The little people are there. They're attacking me again."

Me: "So, you say you're being attacked by people. Is that right?"

C: "Yes. They're on top of my fridge. Aaagh...they're screaming at me."

Me: "Ooooookaaay. So how long has this been going on for?" (Oh fuckit, she's on a mobile so no fixed address.)

C: "Yearsandyearsandyears. MAKE THEM STOP."

Me: "OK, just stay calm. Can I take your address please?"

C: "You know where I am. YOU ALL KNOW WHERE I AM!"

Me: "Unfortunately I don't. I know you are in the xxxx area of London but I need a specific address"

C: "If I give you my address the Nazis will find me"

At this stage the dispatcher is mouthing "get a fucking address or I will dig out your heart with a rusty spoon" at me. And of course, the number search comes up with fuck all....

Me: "Look, can you give me a postcode?"

C: "Do you PROMISE you wont tell the Nazis?"

Me: "I promise"

C: "If they find me I'll know it was you. I know your phone number now."

Me: "Yes, it's 999...so can I have that postcode?"

C: "It's NWXX XXX"

Me: "So you're on XXXX Street?"

C: "HOW DO YOU KNOW? AARRRGH! NAZI"...click...brrrr....

Eventually got her number from Vodafone. The crew informed me that she had a very large and shiny collection of sharp things.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:03, 2 replies)

When my former father-in-law was seriously ill
we used to get the double-glazing firm who'd done our windows ringing us to push conservatories and porches.

So every time the phone rang, we'd grab it quick in case we were needed right away. As different family members took the calls it was a while before we realised that we were getting up to 4 calls a DAY.

Next time they rang - at 8am, ffs - I nearly broke my neck jumping up to answer, thinking, oh shit, this is it, Granddad's popped his clogs in the night...

The ensuing conversation was short and to the point. They never called back.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 8:46, 1 reply)

How I deal with cold callers
If called at an inappropriate time (in my world, that's any time at all) by these twunts, I employ something along the following lines:

Caller: "Hello, blah blah blah service blah blah, can I discuss it with you now?"
Me: "Actually, that sounds very interesting, but unfortunately I'm just about to leave the house. Perhaps we can talk about it later?"
Caller: "No problem, I'll call back..."
Me: "I'm going to be out all day but I'll be back around 10 or 11pm tonight. If you give me your private phone number, I'm happy to call you at home after you finish work, if that's okay"
Caller: "Er... there's no way I'm giving you my private number sir"
Me: "Why not? I'd love to hear more about your service, but I don't know when I'll be back tonight"
Caller: "Well sir, I don't really want to be disturbed at home"

Me: "GOT IT IN ONE, GENIUS. DO NOT CALL ME AGAIN"

*click*

Of course I know it's futile, but I derive great pleasure from it.
( chart cat has an itch, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 8:29, 4 replies)

liar liar pants on fire
I had a call once from some indian call centre.
"Hellomynameisjeremy"
me "Hello"
"Could I interest you in........"
me "Would you buy something off a person who lies to you?"
"No sir"
me "then why would I buy from you?"
"I am not lying to you sir"
me "yes you fucking are. You're in india, you're indian and you said your name was Jeremy. Fuck off"
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 7:54, 3 replies)

Explain the problem
I used to work for BT (spit) I was there for 18 months as a "temp" (some temps had been there 5 years). Anyway I was on 151 faults and one idiot called to say his phone had been repaired on time. "Great" says I. Idiot says "But what was exactly wrong and what did the engineer do to fix it?"
As people who work in BT know there are never any fucking helpful notes on anything. His report just said something like broken at pole.
So I told him that. He wouldn't accept a broken wire and mended broken wire and kept on for5 minutes. So I told him to wait while I got the engineer on the line to explain it fully to me. Put him on hold for 5 mins and went for a fag.
When I went back to him he was still there. So with my best bit of star trek knowledge, told him "There was a surge in the plasma conduit which overloaded the transporter buffer, so the engineer replaced an isolinear chip."
"Thanks" he said "that's all I wanted to know."
Twat rang off, re-phoned and left a message for my manager saying how helpful I'd been.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 7:32, 7 replies)

Not all people who work in call centres are twunts... I should know, coz me and a mate worked in one.
So one night after kicking out time at the pub, we (we being me, my call centre buddy and about 8 others) crammed into, and around, the nearest payphone, dialled '100' and sang them the following song in unison:



We were awarded with a heart warming chuckle and a sincere "thanks guys".

So come on, next time you and your mates are out on the piss, give the operator a call and sing them a silly song - it's almost like charity work!
( mr.dogshit The world's premier anthropomorphic canine faeces, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 4:01, 1 reply)

Just because you're on hold doesn't mean they can't hear you....
First post so shittyness may ensue.

I split up with my partner a few months ago. As I'm paying child maintenance and my pay is utter tosh I got into a bit more debt than I could handle so I began trawling the interwebs for loans for bad credit. I found YES loans (Don't, just don't!).

I posted my details online requesting a call from an advisor and waited patiently for a callback which took about 2 minutes.

I get the usual patter, 'We WILL find a loan to suit your borrowing need Mr Whatsmyageagain' and the usual tosh. Now after she repeated the same thing over and over and took a rather valuable 25 minutes of my time I was getting rather annoyed with Charlene (Whos accent kept switching from American to English in 0.2 seconds flat). She took a £50 charge for their service and put me on hold while I was connected to another colleague of hers. As I was alone and listening to Vivaldi I began talking to myself about how annoying her voice was and I hope I get to speak to someone with half a brain. 2 seconds later her voice clicked back on rather abruptly 'WON'T be 2 minutes now SIR.' and Vivaldi resumed. I put this down to coincidence rather than anything else and continued moshing merrily to YES Loans FM.

I then spoke to Charlene's colleague (Lucy if memory serves me correct) going through exactly the same details for this pissing loan. After 15 minutes of talking to her my patience was starting to wear a bit thing. She was transferring me to another colleague who would finalise the details of my loan. As I was put on hold and my mind was being plagued with more classical tosh I began talking to myself quite annoyed about how many more fucking retards I would have to finalise my details with before I talked to someone who knew their arse from their elbow...

'YOU SIR are an idiot! How DARE you refer to me as a retard. I refuse to help you based on the abuse that you have given me. This call was recorded and any further contact from you will be reported.' Then the line went dead.

Long story short, watch what you say when you're on hold!

And yes I realise talking to myself is the first sign of insanity...

Sorry for long post and lack of unfunnies. :)
(whatsmyageagain?, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 3:50, 6 replies)

Not a story, but a way of playing with the Call Centres that phone you
Found on Stumbleupon: www.xs4all.nl/~egbg/counterscript.html
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 1:42, 2 replies)

Cold calling
Face to face.
Some call centres also operate a face to face approach.
Instead of being called at home they will collar you in the street.
I did my stint at that and was a miserable failure.
We were supposed to get a minimum of 8 sign ups an hour.
After a long cold stint in the pouring rain in a city centre I contemplated 2 options.
1/ step in front of a bus to end the agony
2/offer BJs if they would sign up to pay £2 a month to whatever cause we were promoting.

I did neither and was 'let go at the end of the month'

Due to an administration cock up they paid me an extra months pay, that I gratefully pocketed and decided to be extra nice to the poor sods still out there on the streets, seeing as how I knew how it worked.

Instead of sailing by with a curt 'no thank you' I stop and say 'sorry I cant sign up but ive done this job and I know how hard it is and good luck.
Usually ends up in a conversation of how crap it is with commiserations.

Last time that happened I made my usual 'no thank you' and before I got any further the poor guy blurted
'But we will pay you £5 for 10 minutes of your time"
No shit!
Now I was waiting to meet a friend and explained this, he said no probs, you can call them or if they call you, we can halt the survey.
So off I trotted following the guy into a pub.
I had a moment of WTF, im going into the back room of a pub with a strange guy , but I'm sure I'm not a suitable candidate for the slave trade and I'm big enough and have some army training to fall back on if things get a bit Fred Westish.

Just as the survey ended my phone rang.
'Where are you?"
Me.... I'm upstairs in the back room of a pub with a guy who is giving me money"

Choking sound down the phone
Me, "meet you in a minute"
I take my £5
We meet, I explain.
Just as another guy approaches me.
I say Ive already done it, he asks if I know anyone else who wants to take the survey.
I point to my friend and she goes off to earn £5 to talk about orange juice for 10 minutes.
I sit on a bench and watch the other poor sods try to reel in their quota.
And watch the people rush by brushing them aside saying no.
I want to say, go on do it, you get paid.


But my tolerance doesnt extend to cold callers ringing me at insane O clock.
In spite of knowing the other side they get short shrift I'm afraid



flip, thats a long post
apologies
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 1:04, 6 replies)

Christ on a bike, I feel like a stick in the mud here
Although I've had to wait in many, many long automated queues to get through, every person I've ever spoken to in a call centre has been unfailingly polite and helpful. It's all very confusing.
( the_other_jeff_lebowski Croutons on my tits, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:58, 3 replies)

I messed up
A job on the phones really is at the bottom of the working world. I can't think of anything worse than being on the phone to largely twattish people all day, and especially if it's in a proper sweathouse of a call-centre.

I worked for a fleet company and would field useless and child-like questions about cars day in and day out. One day I took a call from an obnoxious shithead - he riled me up from the get-go. If there's one thing I hate when on the phones, it's people treating you like you're stupid. That and being rude. This guy was both. He wanted to speak to someone else in the company, so I went to transfer him. After putting him on hold to transfer the call I vented my frustration by whispering into the handset 'you fucking rude bastard'. I put him through and went on with my day.

About an hour later my boss pulls me into a meeting room and plays me the call. I have by now totally forgotten about this call, as me abusing customers that were on hold was a pretty regular occurrence. So I'm not prepared in the slightest for what I hear:

'Hold on sir, I'll just put you through to him now... [3 second pause, then in a very distinct and clear whisper].... you fucking rude bastard.'

I didn't get fired. Part of me wishes I had.
(thejazzassassin, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:48, Reply)

Ah call centres
Used to work in one. I got away with so much there. good times. lets see...

My staff used to know not to come to my desk between 8am and 10am, as that was my no pants time. As in, i wouldnt wear pants. i had the boss walk round one day, and one of my staff members warned him, but he didnt listen. He thought it would be punishment to make me walk to the copier one level up with no pants to get his printing. TOok me half an hour, he found me chatting to the chick on reception with no pants on. He wasnt pleased.

I had a mate there, we would be at the pub every day from about 3ish, except on fridays, when we would get there at 12. The MD used to come down with us, and get hammered as well. We had to stop when, after one of these sessions, we were told we were hosting a meeting. A company wide meeting. We were launching the new company website. So we had a bit of fun, we changed the intro music from Eye of the Tiger to the benny hill theme. That went down quite well actually. My mate managed to get to do a bit of marketing for the company after that.

One of my favorites though was a series of events with the company HR manager, a fairl attractive lady. First time i met her, i walked over to her, and casually interupted her conversation with my mate with "if i ever fucked you, it would have to be doggy style, so i could staple a picture of (my mates) face to the back of your head" i then walked off. This was swiftly followed with her saying to me the same night "dont make me bring out sexual harrasment panda". my response included me stating he was sad because i was just done raping him. cant believe i never even got a warning there.

Good times.
(danglesmurf, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:41, 2 replies)

Long distance calling
I nearly forgot this lovely one when I became far better acquainted with the T Mobile Fucktards than anyone could truly wish....

I bought myself a shiny new mobile from an online retailer and ported my number over to it.....

......on Christmas eve.

Apparently it should only take a few hours, to come through, but alas, it just wasn't working. Text new mobile from old mobile - nothing, text old mobile from new mobile - still nothing. Call one, call the other, nothing fucking works, and if you think call centres are staffed with retards most of the year, please just try for the christmas specials. Believe me, they are really special.

Numerous calls ensued, as we tried to make my phone work, with me on the verge of gouging my eyes out, until finally, after nearly a week of endless frigging about, we stumbled upon a solution.

The fucktards had only gone and accidentally written down one digit wrong when they ported my number. So my new phone's sim card was not properly active, and my old beloved phone number......


......was now assigned to a pay as you go mobile sitting in some store somewhere in Malaysia.
Oh how I laughed and then called them stupid fucking brain-dead cunts.

Unbelievably, I had a mega argument with them when my first phone bill arrived. After all, it is easy to run up a £950.00 bill, when they think every fucking call has been routed through Malaysia.

T Mobile - I hate you still.
(justin7926, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:34, 1 reply)

IT helpdesk woes.
I work remotely from a different office which is not directly connected to the company server. However, due to a bit of technical jiggery pokery, I can access it using the miracle of technology and a specially set up PC. I think it's powered by pixies. Or maybe kittums.

Anyway, all has been well in the year or so I've been based where I am, until the last couple of weeks. I can no longer access the Agency desktop properly - I can't open any documents, and the web-based applications are nightmarishly slow. So I rang the helpdesk, and asked to speak to Colin. Colin's great; nothing is too much trouble for him and he'll go to the far end of a fart to help you. This, however, would take a few days as it's classed as a low priority (I can still email unopenable documents to my host office's system, y'see. But it's still a bit of a pain not being able to access the intranet properly).

A few days later I got an email saying the problem was fixed, so I tried logging on - to be confronted with the same problem. Again, I spoke to Colin, who tried something technical and asked me to log off and then back on again, once more to no avail. Hmm. Colin sounded a bit puzzled, but endeavoured to keep trying.

Once more, I got a message to say the problem was fixed; once more I logged back on only to be met with a wall of inactivity and icons in funny colours... this carried on for a few more attempts, before Colin got more and more exasperated at not being able to sort the problem for me. "I'll keep trying; meanwhile, just don't log on for the next few hours".

About three hours later, the door to my office buzzed and two strangers came sauntering through the door. Looking for me, it transpired. "Are you DG?" one of them asked.

"Erm, yeah. What can I do for you?"

"You're having trouble with your PC; we thought we'd come out and have a look at it from here".

One of them must have noticed my slightly bemused "How the hell did you know I've been having trouble with my computer?" look, because he smiled and said...

"It's OK, we work for the heldesk. Col sent us"...



Hands out industrial strength spanging pans. Please form an orderly queue.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:25, 8 replies)