How May I Help You?

For over two years now I've been working as a customer service representative, or "Member Service Representative," for an insurance company that shall remain unnamed, except that they cater to veterans. Actually, I work for a third party, a company that's sole existence is to provide a call center for other companies. I wonder if there's any business that is so representative of American consumerism--a company for other companies to outsource customer reps.

It's not the worst job I've had, but it's pretty terrible. Of course, it's not digging ditches. I'm inside out of the hot sun, sitting in a chair, staring into a computer for eight hours. But it's emotionally draining. Lately it's been very busy, just one person after another, needing help with their car insurance. The best calls are those who are just adding cars or paying their bills, and they make up more than fifty percent of my day.

But then there are the horrible people, who think they have the right to talk to me as if I were a whipping boy. They complain about their bill going up (sometimes it's only a few dollars a month). They complain about the automated system. They complain about how long they have to wait (one fellow did just that, and said "You need to hire more fucking people"--I told him that there was no call for swearing at me and disconnected, so if he called back he'd have to wait all over again). They also complain about the security measures--the company has stringent security and if people can't remember their pins, their passwords, or even their children's birthdays, I can't verify them and they have to call back. This is when people really get made, and then they really start swearing.

I'll admit I've flown off the handle with CSRs that I deal with, and I offer a blanket apology, as I now realize how draining and dispiriting it is. You're sitting there in a cubicle, just trying to get through the day without killing yourself, and some guy who think he has the right to talk down to people gives you a hard time over his bill going up. Funny--I'd never even think of calling my insurance company if my bill goes up. There's never a mistake. What do they expect, me to change it?

As if that weren't enough, the two masters I serve are nickel and dime operations. They clock every second of your day--you are allotted one (unpaid) hour for lunch, and two fifteen minutes breaks (that are paid). There are no sick days, and you can be mandated to work overtime. Right now I'm working eight to six, and I know some people have it rougher but I have to have a drink when I get home. Everything is measured--how long your calls are, how much time is spent between calls, and calls are graded. That's fine, I guess, but I've always been one to believe that if you loosen the reins on workers it helps morale, which improves productivity. Having a Big Brother watching your every move just makes people paranoid.

The insurance company measures success by successful survey responses. To pass, you must get an eight out of ten or better. Getting below an eight is considered a "drop," which requires coaching. Most of my drops have nothing to do with my performance--people leave bad surveys because of the automated system, or something else that has nothing to do with me, such as one guy who was mad that there was no brick and mortar locations in Hawaii. A word to the wise--when you are asked to fill out a survey after speaking to customer service, it goes directly back to whom you spoke to. Remember that, and remember that people's livelihoods depend on it. Don't be a dick.

I want to quit this job so bad I can taste it. My immediate coach is a great guy, who has his employees' backs, but higher up than him are scum. Just a few months ago someone in our office (most everyone works from home now, but a few of us still come on site) tested positive for COVID-19. The office was closed down so it could be deep-cleaned. I missed three days of work. It was a nice vacation, but were we paid for it? Of course not. It was a real Scrooge-like move. Only about thirty people work on site, and to pay us for those days would have been the decent thing to do. But in business, decency is a foreign word.

So day after day, hour after hour, I have to have a smile in my voice as I listen to crabby assholes, watched over by misers. And folks, guess what? I don't give a shit about you or your car insurance.