Adventures in Telemarketing: Real Jobs

For those not in the know I work at a call center. I am employed by Leger Marketing to conduct market research, which means I call people and businesses in attempts to collect supposedly valuable information (most of the time it seems entirely inane).

While doing this job I encounter a ludicrous ammount of grief from the populace at large. I understand annoyance at someone calling and trying to sell you something while you're eating your most precious supper, but the ammount of pure vile and venom I encounter is absolutely absurd. I'm not selling anything, i'm not trying to wrestle your last few dollars from your superbly iron grip; I'm simply and very politely asking for a few moments of your time to answer some harmless questions, any of which you can refuse to answer.

I routinely get sworn at, yelled at, hung up on and fucked around with... but that's to be expected, even Canadians can be assholes. however there is something that  really sours my mood: being told to get a "Real Job".

There are so many things wrong with that statement that I almost don't know where to begin, so I'll start with the most obvious choice: What exactly is a "Real Job" and why in sweet holy hell do I need one?

Let's look at what my job gives me:
- Full time (35 to 40 hours per week) if I want it
- A flexible schedule
- Pays higher than Minimum Wage
- An hour long lunch break

That sounds like a decent job to me. It's nothing terrific but it will keep you fed, clothed, under a roof and not piss poor.

Now, how about it being "real"? I'll skip the existentialist debate on whether or not anything we do, perceive or believe is real and get right to the "reality" of things: Every two weeks money gets deposited in my bank account in direct relation to the amount of hours I spent working for that pay period and that pay is treated as legal tender when I pay bills and buy food.

That, my good friends, is real enough for me!

Now the next question is "What do these people consider to be Real Jobs and what right do they have to demean mine?"

To do that, let's examine two cases:

The first was when I was calling Halifax for a corporate project (so, that means I am calling businesses). A file pops up and a lady answers, the business listed on the file is "Christie's 30s and 40s Escort Service". So right off the bat we know things arent exactly going to be normal here.

I begin my intro. "Hi, my name is James, I'm calling on behalf of yada yada" when suddenly she cuts me off and starts laying into me. First she swears at me and asks me how I can sleep at night when I call people and disturb them all day, to which i reply "Fine, thank you very much", ignoring my occasional bouts of insomnia, and let her ramble on. She then insinuates that my family must be ashamed of me because of my job. A ridiculous assumption, because my Mum, grandparents, cousins and aunts and uncles all care for me very much and are supportive of me taking my life into my own hands. she then proceeds to tell me to "get a Real Job"...

I pause...
I'm in shock!
Did a 40 year old hooker just tell me to get a better job? I hung up on her and, in short order, start laughing. When I tell my colleagues why I'm laughing I send one of them into near-hysterics.

In what backwards world is hooking into your 50s considered more respectable than putting yourself through the tail-end of your education doing market research? In that world Spock has a goatee and Megatron leads the Heroic Decepticons. In that world I fall up and burn books while dressed in Nazi regalia and a bright pink tutu. It is a silly world.

The second instance we will discuss is one of significantly less hilarity. This one is more recent and of a more infuriating nature.

I was calling people in Toronto to do a study on air travel in Canada. Innocuous, harmless stuff. On my first call this kid answers the phone, he sounds at most 19 and I go into my pitch, ask him if he is 18 or older. "Yes" he says. Has he flown in Canada in the last year? Another "Yes". How many times? "Left". Excuse me? "Right" he says, his satisfaction with himself reeking through his voice. Little shit thinks he's terribly clever. I call him out on his bullshit and call him "ridiculous", he says "at least I don't work in a call center" and tells me to "get a real job". I tell him to "get a life" and insinuate that someone of his obvious intellectual aptitude would go far in life, maybe even be assistant manager at a McDonald's in 30 or 40 years.

Now, I hold myself to a code of generally being nice to people and trying hard to not judge them right away, but if the world of "Real Jobs" is filled with old hookers and prospectless douchebags, why exactly do I need a "Real Job"? To associate myself with the lower tier of the intellectual spectrum? I fear that wanting a "Real Job" in this world has just become tantamount to wanting an STD and an IQ of less than half my age. If Hookers and Wiseass McDonalds employees are the best the world of "Real Jobs" has to offer, I'll stick with my "Illusory Job" and keep my self-respect and ability to treat other human being with dignity. Telemarketing is a shitty job, for sure, but in the end at least I know I'm a better person for not having demeaned some random individual for trying to survive. No, I'll just demean them for being stupid and jackasses.