Two Legs Bad
Brenda, the office manager, and self-appointed life-coach, has been keeping a low profile since her antics of Curryoke night. On Friday she was fuming up and down the office snapping instructions to the staff and managers: “What are you doing in wrap up for so long!” “There are twenty calls waiting – for goodness sake where is everybody – pull you fingers out.”
When things are busy I begin to realise that huffing and puffing Bernard and Brenda make about ‘having fun productively’ is forgotten when the calls start queuing. When the shit hits the fan they turn up the speed so everyone gets a bit of shit.
The customers for the catalogue (that cannot be named for ‘keeping my job’ reasons) have been ringing to place their orders before the end of October, in order to qualify for a complementary melon ball maker.
Call Centre Tony asked me to go to lunch. I refused. I was just so busy. He came over any way and started having a chat about his Wankerdaq stock. “Ian is a tosser. Bernard is a prize prat. Janice needs a good …” he blew a raspberry and lifted his fist up.
I gave a guilty laugh. Not because of what Tony was saying - I wasn’t listening - I always feel terrible, as manager, chatting when the team are on the phone. It’s like the end of Animal Farm when the rest of the animals watch the pigs eating at the farmer’s table.
Barney, the Big Gay Bear, looked at me disapprovingly as he was talking to customers, “Yes sir. Its free and until you have balled a cantaloupe, you haven’t lived.”