Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Losing It at Deathstar Inc.

I used to work for AT&T. I had never worked for a large corporation before (or since!) and given how many times I was suspended/expelled from various schools for being sarcastic I'm fairly certain that I'm inherently not a "good corporate fit."

So they fired me. I was very good at my job. I approached it with the attitude that we were AT and fucking T, we could accomplish anything! And I could, too. I was that friendly/funny/smart customer service agent who could fix all sorts of crazy non-SOP problems. I shared information, I was pleasant to work with, kept everyone around me upbeat and informed and I was on the national sales revenue leaderboard for 7 months straight.

Not the kind of employee a company would want to keep, right?

One day, I was having a tachycardiac episode when my bosses' boss Peter jumped across my co-workers desk like the proverbial rabbit of his namesake and began pounding violently on my desk. No, he wasn't trying to normalize my heartbeat using shock therapy. He just didn't like the way my conversation was going with the quasi customer on the phone. I wasn't being aggressively obnoxious enough for his tastes (recall that I was a national sales leader.) After the call terminated he called into my line to berate me for having not pushed the caller into buying. Of course, the caller wasn't technically the account holder and FCC rules state that no one but the account holder can make purchases on the account. But, stupid me, I wasn't DOING MY JOB! I didn't TRY TO SELL HIM ANYTHING! I should have OFFERED TO CALL HIS MOTHER (the account holder) AT CHURCH and TRIED TO SELL HER SOMETHING! I should have asked for his COUSIN'S FRIEND'S WIFE'S DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER NAME AND NUMBER, I should have CALLED EVERYONE HE KNEW in a RELENTLESS QUEST for a $9.99 add-a-line!!! I could have made three whole dollars more on my next paycheck!!!

I never told Peter I was 10 seconds away from a heart attack that day he jumped on my fucking desk and screamed at me for five minutes like a rabid little black Napoleon. In fact, I didn't say anything at all because if I had opened my mouth, it would have been to say, "Get off my desk, you jackass." Or maybe, "Call 911." 'Cause it's totally hard to sell stuff when you're dead.

I was never so relieved to lose a job in my life.

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If I changed the focus on this....
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"Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!" shocked, I looked up from my computer screen.
Peter was standing on my desk, his face contorted with rage! What the fuck? My heart raced -- dangerously.

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