More office talk

My hubby thinks I should just start an anonymous customer service blog. I come home and just babble about the calls I take. For now I'll just blog here.

This week the favorite seems to be " I have a question about your *insert product name here*." Why not just ask the question? I always say something in response and they sit in silence. I have to pry out of them what it is they want to know. Usually the answer is staring them in the face. In print. On their screen. I read them the answer. Maybe it sounds petty, afterall it is my job to answer their questions, but would it kill them to read? .

One of the other gals at work, that works in a different department, but in the same general office area had a hissy fit last week that we weren't being compassionate enough in response to a customer's complaint. The person who spoke with said customer was very kind and went by the procedures to help her. Upon hanging up we laughed at her repeated use of the word fricking. We understood how upset she must be since the delivery hadn't made it to her and the brown company of package delivery said that they had left it at her door and it wasn't exactly there. We just laughed because though the rep speaking to her couldn't actually do it, she really just wanted to tell her to let loose with the f-bomb. The other employee said she was just sick of it, just sick of listening to us. Perhaps it just made her realize that when she calls a company about a mistake with her order the people there hang up and laugh at what she said. Of course in an office full of women someone is bound to be bitchy.

I don't think we were cruel, I think that when you get bitched at day after day and are the outlet for the customer's frustration that you have to get it out. You'd go home and explode otherwise. At least we have the courtesy to either be done on the phone or put them on hold and mumble obscenities. I had a phone rep laugh right at me when I was less than happy with their service.

Another lovely trait this week is that most of the people who call and ask a question or get information so that they can call back to place an order want your name. And you know that when they ask that you are the only one who will be able to help them. It's a strange, instant bonding when you answer their question and let them know that what they want is possible. Kind of empowering. Like you hung the moon for them. But then again, when the person seems a bit off kilter or has an accent so thick you need a cleaver to get through it, then you know that they won't forget you and you are in for trouble.

Fantasy Island

As adults are we supposed to stop daydreaming? I admit it. I have an active imagination. No, I don't believe that any of the fantasies/daydreams will actually happen, but it doesn't stop them from playing through my head. Does that sound stupid? Are we supposed to give up flights of fancy once we reach a certain age?
My mind wanders and I find my thoughts drifting to the impossible. It would seem that my blog would be a lot more full of incredible stories and writing finesse with my active imagination. I think I lack discipline and determination. What do I mean think?