F5

I received a call on Wednesday of last week from a company I'm semi-aware of but haven't applied to yet. I think I was considering it. Or maybe not. I hadn't had time to think about it, actually. Anyway, I called them on my first lunch break on Friday and left a message with the time of my second lunch break for them to call back since I could only reach a voicemail. One of the main reasons I hadn't applied with this company was the fact there were no open position listings on any of the five or six different employment engines I've got my resume posted to. It didn't seem like they needed anyone for anything. I'd rather not waste my time if I can help it, so I didn't bother with it. Anyway, someone in HR for the company had seen my resume on one of those many employment sites and wanted me to interview for a position. My training at Propaganda, Inc. was in Week 3 with one week remaining. Training hours were Monday through Friday 0900-1800. The administration for this alternative company maintained the same work schedule. In order for me to interview with them, I would have to miss work at Propaganda, Inc. I was a little concerned about that prospect, but... not terribly.

	"When? Monday? Sure. 8am is brilliant. Two hours for the interview? I can do that." Propaganda, Inc. disagreed. "You can't do that." "I can't tell you in advance that I might be a little late coming in on Monday and then make up whatever time is lost that day? Which part of that can't I do, the being late on Monday or the making the time up?" "You can't do any of it. If you're going to be late, don't bother coming in. Come on time or don't come at all." "Well then. That's settled. See you Tuesday then." The interview began as a fairly standard interview for one basic position and developed into a first interview for another position entirely. Due to the technical nature of the position I talked myself into being considered for, I needed at least a second interview with a program director. This would happen the following day at noon. Again some concern, but not much. I smiled, agreed, and later called Propaganda, Inc. "Hey... about me coming to work tomorrow... Not actually going to happen as it turns out. Should we try for Wednesday?" "If you're not here tomorrow, you won't have a job here." "Oh. That's rather dramatic. Alright then. I'll be there Wednesday to turn in all company property currently in my possession and collect the first of my final paychecks."
Normally I would drag this out, build the suspense, whatever. I'll make an exception this time: I was offered the job. Huge surprise there. I knew that would be the outcome. I destroy interviews. I'm a very likable person with very employable qualities. The risk was definitely worth it. Tech support is a better fit for me than political fund raiser and fear monger. The only drawback is training class won't start for another two weeks and I'm officially unemployed again thanks to Propaganda, Inc's refusal to be even slightly flexible with the schedule this week. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to find something to entertain myself with in the meantime. One good thing about the new job is it has the same professional dress code as Propaganda, Inc. so I've got my wardrobe ready for October 31. Oh yeah. My first day is Halloween. Halloween! Trick or treat. That's freaking hilarious.
	I'm moderately excited about all the paid training I'll be receiving for this job. I can't wait to learn and know all sorts of technological troubleshooting bullshit. Freaking awesome. Can not wait. Super freaking excited. Also, it's more money than the other thing. I think I probably would have done this for less to just not have to go back to Propaganda, Inc. Actually, I know I would have. Don't have to think about it. The best part of this is the fact that I didn't have to do much of anything to make it happen. I definitely prefer being recruited to having to do the whole ridiculous job search song and dance - which wasn't getting me anywhere anyway. Anyway, I'm happy and soon to be employed again and I'll even probably be doing something I'll actually enjoy. I think I'll close with a little tech support humor. Enjoy.

Persuasion is just Coercion having a casual day.

	Working in a call center is... loud and annoying and incredibly boring. All of that is brand new information, I know. I was just as shocked as you probably are now. Brace yourself for another surprise: I'm really good at talking complete strangers into giving me their money. I wish I had known that before. I wouldn't have bothered with the job. I would have simply cracked open a phone book and started dialing numbers. I would definitely consider myself a charity case at this point. But, it's getting better. I'm no longer non-profit. That's a serious upgrade. Breaking even would have been an upgrade, actually. So, everything else is excess. Never thought I'd consider an extra dollar as excess. I'm getting used to living well within my means. It's about time, I suppose.
I average about 1500 calls each day. That is a ridiculous number of phone calls, I know. Nearly 80% of those calls end within a matter of seconds when the person hangs up on me in mid-sentence. This actually doesn't even bother me. I'd rather be hung up on than have to waste my time trying to convince someone that I'm not a con artist while I try to con them out of their money - whatever the magic dollar amount for the moment happens to be. I've only had a very few belligerent individuals, which is surprising. I might have one each day that either wants to heatedly and poorly debate the issue with me or just wants to release their stress from the day by screaming, ranting, and raving at me. It's much easier to deal with people like this on the phone than it is in person. It's almost not even real to me when it happens over the phone. I just don't care.
	I like the dress code. Let me clarify that: Now that I completely understand it, I like the dress code. There was some confusion on my part. There's about twelve pages that explains this incredibly elaborate dress code. It became painfully obvious on my first day of orientation that I had somehow misread the dress code and was only dressed appropriately for a female employee. It sounds much worse than it actually was, but it was still moderately embarrassing and awkward for me. Anyway, I've really missed being able to dress up for work rather than down. I really do enjoy dressing the part. It compliments my pseudo-elitism and mock snobbery perfectly. To be perfectly honest, it just makes me feel better about everything. I also take everything a little more seriously when I'm dressed so smartly. It's impossible for me to ever take anything entirely serious, but this gets me as close as I'm ever going to get to absolute seriousness. Also, I look really good in this wardrobe, so... that's the only reason I need to do anything. I can be incredibly superficial and vain. But, you can't argue with the results. Presentation is everything when you're selling ideas. I mean, it's not like there's an actual product here. It's all make believe. I'm a magician, conjuring up dreams and lies and half-truths and propaganda and campaign slogans and party rhetoric and fear and hope... I'm a mathematician calculating and playing the odds. A prophet for profit, a silver-tongued devil paying lip service to your favorite cause or movement, a communicator. That's the politically correct term, by the way. We're communicators. I thought that was somewhat ridiculous. I know what I am and communicator is the very least of it.
This Tuesday is my first team meeting/potluck dinner. My new supervisor loves to cook and he organizes these events for his teams constantly. Participation, of course, is mandatory. I like the idea of it, I guess, just not the actuality. I have no freaking idea what I'm going to make/take for this. I'm still working it out. I have two days to figure something out. Also, the fitness center was a little disappointing. It might be slightly larger than the fitness room in the clubhouse for my community. I may still use it, but it definitely wasn't what I had expected. Serious let down there.
	"If you don't give me $200 right now... Obama is going to eat your baby!!! He may already be inside your home! But it's not too late, if you act now, we can stop him! I just need your 16 digit credit card number followed by expiration month and year..." Ok, not quite, but sometimes it feels like that. You wouldn't believe the things they pay me to say. I hardly believe it, sometimes. The scripts are... interesting. See also: aggro, intense, propaganda. There are some incredibly bold and horrifying statements that I make repeatedly throughout the day. I don't even hear the words I'm saying most of the time. Which is good, because I'd probably choke to death on my own bullshit. This has been a very educational experience already. I didn't realize how susceptible people are to scare tactics, sensationalism, fear mongering, propaganda, yellow journalism. It's as equally amazing as it is sad. It's almost like a parody or farce, but it's real. I can't reconcile the absurd reality of it.
I feel like a spy. I feel like I'm deep under cover and behind enemy lines. Everyone around me is ultra-conservative, highly religious, and militantly anti-... Well, anti-just-about-everything-I-am. It's awkward. I don't say too much to my co-workers. If they initiate conversations with me, I try to keep my responses short, impersonal, and vague. That relieves me from the burden of having to lie to everyone all the time. I'm the quiet guy who saves it all for his clients/donors. I honestly don't have a word to spare for anyone else, so this isn't inaccurate. After spending all day long on the phone trying to persuade people to part with their money, there's not a whole lot left of me. Also, I really don't want my personal life and professional life to even be aware of each other. They seriously need to be compartmentalized and segregated. This isn't a new approach for me, but it's never been more true or necessary. Not that I have much of a personal life these days. I sleep the majority of the time I'm not working. Unfortunately, I know my lines so well that I can and do recite them in my sleep. I have a lot of political dreams now in which I'm debating any number of issues with various celebrity guest opponents. I don't remember the identity of any of these famous speakers when I wake up, I just know they're all dead. I really don't want to know what that means, if anything. I hope it doesn't mean anything other than I'm completely psychotic or over-stimulated by the propaganda produced by my new employer. Speaking of which, I think I'll refer to my new employer as Propaganda, Inc. Very fitting.