I used to work in a call centre,
phoning the great British public to see if they were interested in the goods my company sold. A lot like Yo Sushi, a conveyor belt ran through the office, where a variety of products were placed, and they would slowly go past you. Oh we had everything in stock, from leather walking stick covers, and bottles of tea tree oil, to tins of Stagg Chilli and tubs of stickle bricks.

We were each given a phonebook, and when you had dialled a number at random, the product going past your face as you pressed the last digit was the item you tried to sell.

“Rhubarb Rhubarb” you would have to say once you heard a dialling tone.

When the customer answered, the flaps on the small hole on the base of your chair opened and slowly a metal spike worked its way up. At around 10 seconds you could feel the cold sharp metal probing at the fabric of your Bermuda shorts. If you had not closed a sale within a minute, the spike would have inserted the full length of its sharp glistening metal love length into your rusty sheriff’s badge, and then it would withdraw slowly. Then a buzzer would go off, and a Vietnamese supervisor would come over, throw you a towel, and slap you in the face once shouting “MOW!”

Now I’m not much of a salesman, but there is nothing like the motivation gained when you have a metal spike trying to find a way into your rectum, a Vietnamese man slapping you shouting “MOW!” and, if you failed to get a sale for the entire shift, you had the indignity of wearing the ‘fish hat’ the next day. The fish hat was merely a fish draped over the head. Not much fun when you have to lower your head to read phone numbers – it always fell off. Plus there was always a supervisor on hand to grass you up if your fish hat fell off.

“Fish hat fall off error” He would say into a radio, and within minutes one of the Vietnamese supervisors would be over, and he would place it back on your head whilst quoting from the film ‘Airplane’ presumably to try to make you laugh and perform another fish hat fall off error. If that didn’t work, he always had a red nose and a car horn in his pocket. Everyone knows that nobody can fail to raise a smile at the parp of a car horn, Then when the eyes turn to the source of the sound, and there is a small Asian fellow with a red nose striking a ‘Tadaaaaa!’ pose, well that’s it, your laughing your arse off.

A second fish hat fall off error would incur a loss of a day’s pay, and if you had children, if you ever bought them an ice cream, a ninja would appear from nowhere and slap it out of their hand. You never knew when it was coming, but somewhere along the line, you would be about a quid down, and have a crying child to deal with.

You get used to anything. When I started the job, I was rubbish, hardly shifted a thing, and had a right sore arse and fishy hair to boot.

I tried allsorts to get my act together and make a sale. I tried softly softly, the Morphy Richards, and the Canadian method of pressure selling, but nothing worked. Until I stumbled upon the book.

‘Chris Eyebrow’s guide to high pressure sales and rectal trauma avoidance’

It was like this book was written just for me. I pored over its contents. It spewed forth wise words of wisely worded wisdoms from someone who is worldly wise and full of wisdom. It told me how to draw the punter in, make him an offer he thought was too good to turn down, and close the sale before he changed his mind. Also, the chapter about lining your pants with a steel plate was pretty good too.

I managed to get a pretty good sales record. My best day was when I shifted 5 pallets of peg holders – which were used cracked and split Walls Ice cream tubs – to a senile old bint in Bradford. I wore the Badger hat that day and I was very proud. It fell off once and was gently placed back on my head by a white cottoned gloved Vietnamese supervisor who bowed before returning to his corner.

I had to leave recently though, to pursue a lifelong dream of working in 100w light bulb sales. Things are looking up!
(Spaff_Quaffer Wise fwom your gwave., Mon 7 Sep 2009, 11:15, 8 replies)

what... the... what... but...
You're either a surreal genius, or the worst case of call-centre former-employee PTSD I've ever seen.
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 11:39, closed)

I like this
And so does my Egyptian watermelon frog Bernardette. Although she'll say anything for a lump of coal.
(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, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 11:50, closed)

This is the bestest thing I've read for quite a while on here.
Click for you sir!
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 12:18, closed)

This is pretty much word for word what the call centre environment is like
I salute you for bringing this to the attention of the B3ta public - that's literally dozens, well maybe a dozen people. Nice one, matey and clicks for ya!
( SpankyHanky, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 12:54, closed)

wow
..no really.

Wow.
*click*
(danniekavanagh did nothing constructive on, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 13:24, closed)

"I had to leave recently though, to pursue a lifelong dream of working in 100w light bulb sales"
You could say you were looking at a brighter future...

but nevertheless *click* for you- me likey.
(Eggstrovert isnt patronising you...honest..., Mon 7 Sep 2009, 14:36, closed)

And the judges have recorded....
...that you are indeed this weeks winner of the EffinDoubt award for Surrealism. Utterly Fish!
(EffinDoubt is breaking glass on, Tue 8 Sep 2009, 8:30, closed)