Friday, October 6, 2006

Call Center

How does a call center located in the jungles of Makati sound to you? Very okay I guess. Right at the heart of the business capital.

How does a call center situated in the Mall of Asia appeal to you? Quite exciting. You'll have the nth chances of watching Superman Returns in iMax

How does a call center in Baguio City, Clark, or any other busy districts elsewhere excites your senses? Hmmm. Not bad maybe.

Just one more.

How does a call center spaced in a house from little less known and quiet residential village called Belair appear to your taste? By now, instinct should utter a loud gasp of hollow guess coupled with an inch of wondering what on earth is it doing there.

I've got several friends who works in that booming industry with a great deal of pay as most of them chided. Some were engineering graduates and licensed too, to make it more profound. While others have finished accountancy and business management courses whose weapon of survival is their capacity to speak fluent english dressed in a foreign accent, that if you hear them speak you would thought it was someone born in London. When I was still unemployed, I tried submitting my resume to a very popular call center but failed to convince the interviewer of my ability to express myself well and I ended up being a factory worker.

As it turned out, these call centers capitalized on agents a.k.a. customer care representatives a.k.a. modern day telephone operators on their ability to speak the universal language. They speak in behalf of companies for customers with concerns to their products or services, but I guess that is another topic for a future post.

They have somewhat turned into zombies who are always awake when the world is sleeping. If they haven't learned the word independence yet, they described themselves as boarders in their own houses where chance upon talking with their parents before they lay onto their matress in the morning or head for work in the eve.

But the issue here is a call center amidst a suburb like a lost command of an infantry batallion making forming its own army in the forest of the wilderness. Whenever i strut along Stockton street, I often times grab an opportunity to glimpse to this call center during its pristine time. I
witnessed the house reformation, it used to be one of the abandoned units where only tall grasses dwell.

One fine morning, I walked along the same path leading to my own sanctuary. Suddenly, a loud conversation was looming and succeeded in capturing my attention. I thought somebody was at cold war after an evening of downpour and the pavement still have traces of moisture. The loud voice almost failed to die down like that of a stream of water flowing down the river bed. He was wearing boxers and a polo and I think it was the boss with a low baritone voice trying to mimick an English accent.

Sooner, several people came and filled the call center converted house like flies rummaging over a piece of lefover cheese cake. I guess these are the operators and one day they busied themselves outside the house group into two. They appeared to be given the task of improving their speeches by blabbering with one another as if they were speaking with a customer. I
witnessed this while holding a book about the memoirs of a geisha named Sayuri and acted reading the book as if I was ignoring the things that they do.

I just wonder how do they satisfy their craving for food at the most unimaginable wee hours of the morning since they are literally very far from 7-11, neither a sari-sari store nearby would open at that time. And I can't think of what the adjacent neighbors reaction, since most people who chose to live there required a quiet community and never wished to be disturbed particularly at night.

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