I'm out in Vancouver for my best friend's wedding and there have been many stories and harrowing adventures as of yet, mostly I don't think they're worthy of recounting to you fine folks, I can only drag you down so much before I lift you up and my last entry was a rant and a half, so I don't think regaling you with a tale of exhaustion, confusion and such is appropriate (plus I'm no longer sore about that issue, it's all been good going since then). So now, now I'll tell you a tale that made me laugh, to myself:
Last night, after hanging with my buddy Megan, I headed "home" to my hotel room, on the way home I mostly just zoned out and listened to my music and tuned into my thoughts and personal musings. While walking up Granville street to get to the bus I knew would get me to my hotel, instead of risking getting lost in an unfamiliar city, in my peripheral vision I see a lady flagging me down. Shes in her late 30s to mid-40s, I can't really tell. I take one earbud out of my ear and she asks me if I have change for a Toonie.
Me, I'm an obliging and nice man, so I root around in my wallet while still walking towards my bus and pull out one Loonie and four quarters. I Show her them and she pulls a slick move on me. SHe grabs the quarters and says "Do you have another one of 'these'" and grabs the Loonie. I realized before this happened that it was a possibility and I say "No", basically acknowledging that I had just been swindled for my good nature and just glad it wasnt change for a 5$, when things take an interesting turn...
"So, i can't give you a blowjob out on the street like this, there's too much traffic around and..." she starts. I cut her off saying "It's okay", and wave her away while walking off and thinking "If you're willing to give head for 2$, then I certainly don't want what you have...". I count my 2$ as a payment for me to be left alone and get back to my hotel where I come to a startling and hilarious realization:
I just got propositioned by a 2$ Hooker!
I, quite honestly, thought that the 2$ Hooker was a joke, something we throw around as a sleazy comparison. But no, life has thrown another hooker in my path and once again made me happy for my position in life... I wonder when I'll meet my next hooker?
Showing posts with label Hookers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hookers. Show all posts
Friday, September 3, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
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.
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.
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