I used to work from dusk to dawn in an industry that gives employment opportunities to people who can literally talk their minds off … nyahaha. My first job as a call center agent involved voicing for the deaf, the hard of hearing and the speech impaired, and the next one, serving people who love to shop online.
People who work in the call center industry invariably move around a lot, seeking better opportunities, comparing pay and benefits and subsequently, moving on with such nonchalance … with a wider network, better pay, more handsome benefits, and chances at promotion, among a host of other considerations.
In the case of 5 members of my former team, they incorporated and made a lateral move in the call center industry by going into recruitment — almost cutting our team membership in half – which invariably proved problematic, and they eventually split up again, going their separate ways, unable to preserve the shreds of friendship.
There used to be 14 of us in Team Jake … “M” was the first to leave, a bundle of joy gone haywire in the name of love … followed shortly by “J” who had to leave purportedly because he could not live with the stress of working nights, his health suffering in the process.
Team Jake was composed of people who volunteered to work during Christmas and New Year, fresh out of training and literally wet behind the ears. Some of us were already industry veterans, or at least, experienced. Most of us were neophytes, called virgins, green apples in an industry that pays a premium for experience.
Each one of us had a story to tell … almost every single one of us a survivor, having gone through some harrowing experiences. Each one was trying to make a better life for him/herself.
The stories we shared could be winning pieces in Maala-ala Mo Kaya … the harsh realities of life and its tragedies: a tragedy of fate, a tragedy of character, or in some cases, a tragedy of both fate and character. Not quite a fair shake.
Five of us were gay. And that alone should have shaken Jake, our Team Manager … but with fortitude, he handled us like wet bars of soap … not too gingerly lest we fall, not too hard lest we slip out. And then most of the women were acting like gay blades themselves, especially one of the girls who has declared that she was brought up by a gay nanny!
The comic relief amidst the pressures of work invariably resulted in peals of laughter. We coped in many different ways … someone was consistently banging her mouse on the desk, another would, in fits of rage, raise her keyboard and slam it down, another would slam his fist, another an open palm. One would press the mute button and swear at the customer, another would press the same button and deliver a hilarious one-liner to insult the intelligence or lack thereof of the customer at the other end of the line. There were foot stampers, there were those who clucked their tongues, there were those who glared at the twin-monitors.
We were a crazy bunch.
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