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Dreadful pits of hellish torture for both customer and the people who work there. Press 1 to leave an amusing story, press 2 for us to send you a lunchbox full of turds.

(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 12:20)
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I used to work for BT as a '100' operator.
Because we took the bulk of our calls from one area (South and West London) we would get the occasional 'regular'. One such 'regular' was obviously an old lonely guy, in his 70's I guess, we'll call him Frank.

Frank had a bit of a liking for tall young men as I would discover on one of my first days working there. With a senior operator sitting beside me, listening in on my calls, giving advice, yada-yada, he called.

"Operator services, how may I help?" my polite pre-recorded salutation enquired, "Oh!" Frank excitedly exclaimed "...you sound like a tall young man!". I sat there briefly, bemused and confused... I 'SOUNDED' like I was 'TALL'!? How did that work exactly? what the fuck was he on about? had I misheard him? Was it just his unconventional way of starting the conversation politely? I looked over to my helper with eyes full of 'HELP!'... But, he was doing his best to not piss himself laughing. Anyway, that was the first of many of my encounters with Frank. Over the many months I worked there I became more at ease with his uncomfortable blend of telecommunication based homosexual lechery, as it came as a welcome break from the usual monotony of reverse charge and "Sorry ta bovva yoo but I put a paand in da pay fown and it wont let me call, can i have a 1 minute free call please" calls.

Over time I realised that if you acted professionally towards Frank, politely ignoring his perverse enquiries, he would bid you farewell asap... Whereas, If you said the right thing, what you knew he wanted to hear - then... well then fun could be had. Then one day about an hour before the end of my shift - he called. My decision was swift - I would lead him on like the man-whore I had always wanted to be... although not towards old men. I would do it in the most polite, most unsackable and, most importantly, least OMG-I-feel-dirtier-than-a-festival-portaloo way I possibly could.

Me - Operator services, how may I help?
Frank - Oh hello, you sound like a tall young man!
Me - Well yes, I'm actually 7'4".
Frank - I bet you've got big hands. (another of his typical pervy enquiries)
Me - Heh, yeah I do actually... And because I'm so tall I used to play a lot of basketball, I was quite good.
Frank - Hmmm, I bet you could pick me up.
Me - Yeah, I suppose I could... I'm pretty strong being my size.


At this point I knew I had him, I'd won his trust. Also, some of my fellow operators nearby had overheard my replies (7'4", big hands, pretty strong) and so knew who I was talking to. They offered smiles and nods of encouragement - which worked. Any thought of pulling out in a mind-bleach induced moment of cowardliness melted away in an instant. Frank continued:

Frank - ......... Have you ever had your bottom spanked?
Me - Yeah, you know... If i was naughty when I was a kid my dad would give me a smack on the bum, I guess I deserved it.
Frank - ........ Have you ever been spanked on your bare bottom?
Me - I guess so. If I had been naughty in the bath, you know, I would've got a smack on the bare bum.


For me, now, this was uncharted territory. The nods and smiles of my fellow operators had turned to grins of WTFLOL-ishness. The conversation continued:

Frank - I bet you could lift me out of the bath!
Me - Sure I could, I think it's important to help fellow members of your community, like you, get in and out of the bath.
...
[pause]
...
Frank - Would you spank me on my bare bottom?
Me - Haha, sure I'd spank your bum, I'm game for a laugh... Its just a bit of innocent fun isn't it.
...
[pause]
...
Frank - You sound like you have a big penis!


At this point, my nerve broke. I "couldnae take it any more cap'n" and decided to cash in my winnings from the telephonic fruit machine of the pervy old man. My voice this time was curt:

Me - How can you tell I have a large penis just from the sound of my voice?
Frank - Erm... I have to go now, bye. [click]


The smiles and nods which had surrounded me, which had turned to grins, had now transformed into sniggers and pfffff's. I had sailed the seas of homoerotic perversion, travelled over the horizons of decency, and had come back unscathed with tales of the most sickening beast imaginable. Ultimately, I had also gone as close as I would ever hope to wanking off a 70 year old bloke.

Maybe you think this is a bit of an anti-climax to the story - but that was the whole point. I didn't want to be there to hear the guttural moans of his vinegar stroke! ...or did I?


(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 17:58, closed)
Nice
*click* for "cash in my winnings from the telephonic fruit machine of the pervy old man"
(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 18:30, closed)
I validate this!
I worked there about 15 years ago and Frank (I had forgotten the name, to be honest) was doing the rounds then. And there was a guy who used to come on and demand "a manual reverse charge call to the Samaritans... manual, manual." and you'd just say "certainly, sir, may I have the number?" and he'd start trying to pick a fight. "Oh, you've got a problem with that?" and so on. Prick.
I enjoyed 999 routing too. And freaking out kids who'd call from a phone box to swear at you by parking the call up in one of your three little boxes and watching the receiver go up and down, and you knew they were panicking like motherfuckers...

But bestest about the BT job was that they gave me extra bread to very occasionally conduct a 155 call in French. A whole 30p extra an hour to infrequently connect a homesick student to his mammy at pay-up-or-piss-off rates.

In fact, with the people I worked with and the varying nature of the job, even the 6pm- 2am shift I was on I'd say that if it paid more than a few grand a year I'd be there to this day.

The only thing I hated about it was the mother hen bitches who were old BT staff and not agency and acted like they were the shit.
(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 19:19, closed)
You had the very same "you sound like a tall young man" man??? small world eh?
Anyway, I totally identify with all of that especially the 3 call slot thing. I once had a kid who was stupid enough to do it from his house... i waited 10 seconds, called him back and said if he did it again we'd have to notify his parents.

I too was an international operator (although, just an English speaking one). I can remember trying to connect someone to a call to either Iran or Iraq - but when their international operator heard my dulcet English tones, they simply hung up - nice.

Oh, oh... and trying to connect someone's call to a ship at sea via the satellite thingy (was it inmarsat?)... exciting :|

And then there was the time an English woman was trying to call an American friend. The number wasn't working so she rang us. I tried it, it wasn't working. So I dialled up the number for the relevant US operator only to be told that their systems were down so they couldn't help me, although they could give me the number for the localised faults department. So I rang the number and I was "greeted" by a typically bored sounding American lady's recorded salutation. I instantly went into my scripted spiel for international calls "Good afternoon, this is the United Kingdom calling...", explained my caller's predicament and asked if they could help us. "SUUURE!" she replied excitedly, "Thank you" I said, "YOU'RE WELCOOOME!"... It carried on like that for what seemed like ages. It was as if she had 1) Never heard a sexy English voice like mine :p 2) Never been spoken to politely in a genuine and sincere way, and 3) had just cum in her knickers! So much so that my caller even gave a lil' guffaw at what was obviously the tell tale vocal signs of a wide-on.

Aaah, happy days.
(, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 2:08, closed)
You made an old man very happy
... which is bizarrely sweet. Click.
(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 20:52, closed)
Click!
I wish I'd had the guts to do that with pervy callers, instead of just redirecting them to double-glazing firms. . .
(, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:28, closed)

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