At least it was a brief encounter...
I’d just started a shift in the call centre, and my first call of the day came through. The call centre had a clever system whereby the telephone number calling was recognised by the computer and brought up the customer’s account. We were required to get details from the caller to ensure they were the account-holder; their full name and account password, usually.

“Good morning, you’re through to Vodafone,” I said, as cheerfully as is possible when 10 hours of your day will be spent in front of a flickering CRT, absorbing abuse and fury. “Can I take your full name please?”

I could see the caller’s name, Mr Ray Dimmock*.

“It’s Mr Dimmock.” said a curt Lancashire accent.

“Sorry – could I have your *full* name?”

“It’s Mr Dimmock!” was barked, in an irked tone.

“Yes, thank you – but I do need to have your full name; your first name, as well, please – for security reasons…” I explained.

“It’s FUCKING MR. DIMMOCK YOU DOPEY COW!” assaulted my eardrums, before he abruptly terminated the call.

I accessed the account to write up the call, and saw notes from previous CSRs explaining that “Cust can be abusive. He has apologised for this. It’s a medical condition and he can’t help it.”

I felt sorry for him in a way – he’d have to go through the queue again, presumably to be met by the same hurdle. What must it be like to be so pointlessly angry all the time?

I wish it was always that easy to get rid of awkward customers.

(* name changed to protect the terminally irate)
(Ovaltina, Wed 10 Sep 2008, 16:13, 1 reply)

that is excellent
humourous conditions FTW!
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Wed 10 Sep 2008, 16:35, closed)