Me and my mum got home from work yesterday soon after 5pm last night. I was in a horrible mood, and my mum was in worse. The phone rang five minutes later, an American answered.
“Is Mrs. Wine there?”
Uh oh. Call centre.
Now, I used to work in a call centre, and I don’t believe in being rude in them, as so many countless times people were rude to me. It achieves nothing, as often the people on the phone only dictate to you what hair brained branded product or scheme they want to try to peddle to you. This takes the cake, which my mum said to me after getting off the phone.
“Hi! Mrs Wine Ma’am, we believe you recently signed up for our credit card!”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, we noticed after processing your details, we’re not allowed to contact you for marketing calls.”
“Well, you see we think you would benefit from hearing about our other great products and services.”
“I told you I wouldn’t be interested in them.”
“But we feel that we should contact you to inform you about our other great products and services.”
“But, I’m not interested.”
It carried on for another 10-15 minutes, until she finally got the message. My mum was angry. I was angry because my mum was angry. It was no fun being in the Wynne residence last night. I said it on facebook and I’ll say it here: I’d love to legally change my name to ;DROP DATABASE; to see what havoc ensures.
Booyaa! An SQL Joke! Anybody else got any other call centre woes? From either side of the phone. I’ve got an entire blogs worth of the general public being idiotic arseholes. But that’s another story for another time.