It is frightening how absolutely entertaining it can be to work at a call centre; the friends and people you meet, the strange scenarios that happen in the height of boredom, the interesting facts you'd never have found out if you had not worked all Saturday and Sunday for the last who knows how long.
When I moved over to the United Kingdom, I never thought I would be forced into accepting a call centre agent offer, not that there is anything wrong with call centre work, I just had other expectations of my English experience. I came over with modest dreams of hotel and bar work in a little country establishment; no expenses and cash in hand. Sadly, the job market had hit its lowest point since the start of the recession and I would spend six weeks looking for a basic reception job or even freelancing for Academic editing websites and a company that writes wills for women only. Thousands of applications later and I'd still heard nothing and had very little feedback. Not the best two months of my life I'll be honest.
Then an interview opportunity at a call centre came up. I almost didn't go because I was convinced that someone would get back to me or something would come up sooner or later. Thank goodness I did not take the chance. The recruitment agency phoned me and I said no at first. Then I went for run, reminded myself that I needed to pay rent in two weeks and phoned the agency back to accept the position as a weekend call centre agent (all company details confidential).
My weekend job has become rather a delightful proposition at the end of the normal working week. I know I am going to see the crew; the smiling faces, the laughs, the great conversation. The Swine Flu Agents are a wonderful bunch of people. There is Cowgirl, Dr C, Thistle, Ruxy, James Bond, Scotty, Hesh-man, Snickers and JF.
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