Category: jobs

I Wish I’d Made This Up

Customer Support Idiot: “[Redacted] Business Support, this is Idiot, how can I help you?”

Me: “Hi, I’m calling to try to get an IP taken off your spam RBL.”

CSI: “Ok, can I get your business name and phone number, please?”

[I give them to him.]

CSI: “I can’t find you anywhere.  Are you a new customer?”

Me: “Uh… no.  We have over a hundred T1s terminating here.”

CSI: “Oh.  Ok.  Can you hang on for a minute?”

[At this point, I hear a click and expect to hear hold music.  Instead, he somehow conferences me into an internal call he makes to a coworker.  I don’t say anything because I think this could be interesting.]

CSI: “…yeah, he’s trying to get off an RBL.  What’s that?”

Other guy: “You don’t know what an RBL is?”

CSI: “No.”

OG: “It’s a realtime blocklist.  It’s a way to block spam.  Just search for ‘RBL’ in the knowledge base.  It’s the first hit.”

CSI: “Ok, thanks.”

[More clicking, then he comes back on the line.]

CSI: “Hi, Marc?”

Me: “Hi.”

CSI: “Ok, what IP do you need taken off the blacklist?”

[I give it to him.]

CSI: “Ok, I’m still having problems finding you as a customer.  Can you give your phone number again?”

[I give it to him again.  Then again.  Then he has me repeat the last four digits–twice.  Finally, he seems to get it.]

CSI: “Can I put you on hold for a minute?  And what was that IP again?”

[I grit my teeth and repeat it.  CSI actually puts me on hold on this try.  At this point, I’ve been on the phone with him for about fifteen minutes.  He leaves me on hold for another fifteen.  When he finally returns…]

CSI: “Hi, Marc?  You still there?”

Me: “Yes.  What did you find out?”

CSI: “I found the number of the people you need to contact in order to got off the blacklist.  It’s…”

[Here he gives me a phone number, which I type into the TextPad window I keep open as a virtual scratchpad.  When he finishes, I stare at the number–dumbfounded.]

Me: “That’s my phone number.  That’s the number I’m calling you from.”

[CSI apparently doesn’t notice that I’ve said anything, and keeps talking.]

CSI: “You’re going to need to contact… [My Company] to get off the blacklist.”

Me: “That’s me.  I work for them.  I am calling you from that office.

CSI: “Anything else I can help you with today?”

[Stunned by this spectacular display of idiocy, I have no idea what to say next–other than “No.”  I get off the line quickly, then stare blankly at my phone for a moment.]

Coworker: “That sounded painful.”

But how are the health benefits?

A while ago, I was having a conversation with a couple coworkers about how our job titles don’t actually mean anything–we all do essentially the same thing but are called different things and get paid differently.

Which is bullshit, but beside the point.

I changed my job title in the company directory to:

King of the Fucking MOON

That was a few weeks ago. No one has noticed.

It Sucks Being “The Night Guy”

I’m really sick of being “The Night Guy.” I hate to sound like Rodney Dangerfield, but I don’t get any respect. Until recently, I’d gotten used to the string of unintentional oversights by my coworkers–food brought in to the break room always gone by the time I get in, important meetings scheduled outside my work hours, little or no communication between shifts–mostly little things that imply that my coworkers never even consider the fact that anyone works different hours than they do. Lately, however, it’s just been getting insulting.

In March I asked to be switched to the day shift. This is a reasonable request, considering I’ve been here for more than two years. Despite my boss’s continuing reassurances that they’re working on hiring someone to take over my current hours, I’m still working the same shift. Since I requested the change, they hired a new tech. He works Monday through Friday, 9am until 6pm. If you were wondering, yes, that’s the shift I wanted. He does the exact same job I do, and they pay him more.

When I got into the office after my weekend, someone had swapped my desk chair for a creaking, screeching, back-torturing piece of junk. When I angrily asked my coworker what happened, he told me that the owner had taken my chair and given it to one of the tenants we rent office space to. Tenant had complained to Owner about the chair I’m now sitting in, so Owner gave him my chair without even leaving me a note.

Earlier that week, the woman in charge of scheduling company events came over to my desk to tell me that they’d scheduled a company outing, a minor-league baseball game, for a Thursday night. I work Thursdays. They’d knowingly scheduled a company outing for a night when I can’t go. This would be understandable if this were a large company–but we have a total of eleven employees. Literally everyone in the company, plus a guest, gets to go except me.

I really can’t think of a better way to say to an employee, “We don’t value you” than what they’ve done over the past month. Fuck this. I’m done.