The New Job

I feel so filthy. And for once not in a good way! Tonight I had somebody say to me "Well you're doing a wonderful job of covering for all this, but after all you're Customer Service." She managed to say customer service in that tone of voice that's usually reserved for describing lawyers, politicials, and serial child-rapists. Even though I'm pretty sure she was dangerously insane, that association with my current career makes me feel somehow unclean. I scrub and I scrub, but the feeling just won't go away!*

*If by "scrub" I mean "masturbate." **

**And I do.

Anyway, with this bout of reemployment I am back in customer service, on actual phones this time instead of email. Yet while talking more on phones I am talking less about phones. Considering where I used to work, it's fairly novel to be doing customer interaction for a company which is not utterly despised by the majority of its customer base. It's almost fun at times, in as much as anything that I'm forced to do for 40 hours a week can ever be at all fun. For the most part I seem to once again be excelling at a job for which I'm overqualified. That does seem to be the only job I can actually get though. There don't seem to be any jobs for which I am exactly qualified, only over or under.

One thing I wondered about would be my phone manner, if I could be polite enough and not rude or snappy. This was a valid concern because, as any of my friends can tell you, I'm something of an asshole a lot of the time. I'm impatient, apathetic, and I insult most of my dearest friends on a regular basis. You know how there's a line between friendly ribbing and hurting someone's feelings? It was considered an improvement once I learned how to recognize that line within minutes of having crossed it. (Instead of days later, when somebody told me, or just not at all.) Well it turns out that most of the time I can be very patient, helpful and compasionate to complete strangers who don't really mean anything to me. Troll (who is very perceptive despite his lack of sentience, and height) says it is because they don't mean anything to me. I only pick on the people I care about. How touching.

The other theory is that I can be nice to the customers because I'm getting paid to. Hmmm... I wonder if any of my friends would pay me to be nicer to them?