Amanda Unvarnished

The last entry I posted, the one about having the strange weekend, was supposed to be backdated to 22 November. I’ll fuck around with that feature on my day off, as it seems it didn’t quite work out with the client, and I really don’t feel like doing it now.

Well folks, it’s been ages since I’ve posted, and it’s about time for another one. It’s been so long since I’ve posted that I don’t remember what I posted about. Suffice it to say that work’s pretty much just the same crap, different day. I have a new roommate, who was moved in without my knowledge, and is here to stay permanently. She, and all of her friends, are Convergys-quality people, and by that I do not refer to the few people at Convergys who are hard-working. In short, they’re extremely trashy, people nobody with any sense would want in their house. And this one lives with me, and she brings all her friends over. They stay over till all hours of the night, and I don’t trust any of them as far as I could kick them. Thank G-d the bedroom door has a lock, because there’s no way in hell my ass is going to sleep with a bunch of strange guys in the house. I’ve been sick for the last several says. I worked a half-day today, and came home to try to get a little rest while the roommate was at work. Her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend are over here now. The sister’s about 16. The roommate’s 19. She periodically rearranges my living room at will. Yesterday, I got lucky enough to receive a warning that the living room had been arranged. All her and her friends do is blast ghetto music, and generally act retarded, like trash. They’re moving her best friend in next month. I’ve seen her too. She’s just as retarded. I have a really bad feeling I’m going to get seriously fucked because of this whole arrangement. ze’evi said he bought one of those bird grenades, the little grenade launcher that can fit in the back of a truck. I wonder if he’ll let me borrow it. I could come home one night, open the front door, and just start lobbing concussion grenades in to the place, and run them all out. Yeah, it’d destroy a whole bunch of shit, but what the hell. “I just want my life back!” It’s the night before Hanukkah, and I can’t find the menorah. I can’t think straight enough to try to figure out where I put it, and that’s assuming it wasn’t in one of the living room closets, and thus has been moved. I can’t wait until I can move.

I took today off work, for no other reason than I woke up this morning, and
really had no desire or motivation, of any kind, to go in to work and put up
with the shit. Not that I’m desirous or motivated on other days, but today
I coulndn’t even convince myself by pointing out to myself that’s it’s the
responsible thing to do, and that I should be doing my best to be a
conscientious worker. Just couldn’t do it, prudent or not. And it’s not
like I’m not a cinscientious worker. I’m there when I’m supposed to be, and
the only days I take are the ones allotted to me by Convergys. Well, today
I decided to take one just because I could. I earned some absences back on
the 30th of September, so I’m not in danger of being fired, at least on
account of attendance. Fruthermore, this one will roll off on the 19th of
December, and I’ll also have two more that will roll off at the beginning of
December, because it will have been a calendar year since they occurred. I
look at this as giving myself some unpaid time off, since the company isn’t
going to be gracious enough to do it. I deserve some extra days off too,
and I shouldn’t have to wait until the moon is in the right phase, the
planets are properly aligned, and all the omens point to an advantageous day
before I get some extra time off.

I just looked at my paycheck online. I only got paid for 64 hours. That’s a little over a week and a half. Fucking Cornelius! Why does he have to be so incompetant? The little shit probably keyed in my hours incorrectly, *again*, because I know I was there, and worked, for 80 hours within that pay period. Fuck me! And given the supervisor changes going on, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to go to about this. If I go straight to HR, they’ll just tell me to go to my supervisor. I hate that fucking job! Why can’t I just go in to work sedated, or drunk? I mean, it would be easier to deal with it that way. I thought about going for benefits, but why would I want to do that when they keep fucking up my paycheck, and I have to make some serious rearrangements just to get my fucking bills paid? GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!

OK, I’m going on record with the following:
Jerry, you are an idiot. For everyone else’s amusement, or eddification,
whichever you choose, or maybe even disgust, Jerry sold a $1100 Dectalk
Express for three cartons of cigarettes and a wireless NIC. Even if you buy
the most expensive cigarettes, and the most expensive wireless NIC, you
still aren’t even close to half the falue of a Dectalk. That has got to be
the most pathetic thing I’ve seen in a long time, with the exception of the
Convergys stuff. Come on! I know people who are in to drugs hard core that
aren’t that desperate. And it’s only cigarettes! Did you get high-grade
ones or something, or some cheap brand like basics? And you can get a
wireless NIC for about $60! And when the cigarettes are gone, then what?
Jerry, I don’t mean to disrespect you or anything, but if you’re going to
get rid of your hardware, make sure you get something at least close to
equivalent in return. YOu can’t even call what you did bartering. Some
people never figure it out.

I started this entry last night.
I looked at some random Convergys stats today. Here they are, or, rather, the most important one:
We had 167 agents as of last month. Now, we have 145. That means that they fire an average of one agent every few days.
Today was really bad. I spent the whole day being screamed at by pharmacists, the high-point of which was being yelled at by some guy who couldn’t electronically reverse claims, and told me that *I* was going to sit on the phone with him all night if necessary, until *I* came up with some answers, and they had better be satisfactory ones, yesterday. When I told him that he needed to talk to his software vender, he launched in to a huge rant about my irresponsibility, and various and sundry insults, and of course, I sat there, like a good little Convergys bitch, and took it. I hate that place, and the people, and the work. One of these days, I’m going to reacquaint myself with my inner no.
The supervisor position has been posted. For those who don’t know, my supervisor, as well as another one, were only temporary supervisors, which means that they only kept the position for six months. After that, the position reopens, and they, along with anyone else who wants to, have to reapply. I think my supervisor’s scared he won’t get the position, because he and the other temp are far from the only ones applying. The other temp’s gotten himself in to trouble because of his going around and talking to agents when they’re supposed to be on the phones, and as a result they log in to aftercall or something like that to carry on a conversation with him, and it’s finally aroused the ire of Ashley, who works service level. I don’t think my supervisor will get it, because he’s really not that smart, or assertive, and I don’t think he’ll get lucky and pass the interview process a second time, if he didn’t have friends in HR the first time. And if that little idiot ends up back in the agent pool, he knows he’s screwed just like the rest of us, and he’ll be screwed by some of us, because he’s spent his time as a supervisor abusing his power, and screwing us over. If he’s no longer a supervisor, then he’s equal to us, and fair game. I have mixed feelings about all this, to tell the truth. Part of me wants to see the little bastard get eaten alive, because he’s acted like a weasle since he’s been a supervisor, and abused his power. But part of me also pitties him, because I know, and he probably has some inkling too, that a supervisory position at Convergys is the only form of power he will ever have, and the “general population” at Convergys can be pretty brutal, even if you haven’t done anything. All they have to do is perceive that you’ve done something, and you’re fair game. I can only imagine what it’ll be like if either my supervisor or the other temp get thrown back in to the fray. Either way, though, I’m not going to loose any sleep over it. They’ve made their beds, (or dug their graves), and now it’s going to be time for one of them to lay back and enjoy the upcoming ride.

Today is 29 Elul, the final day of the year 5764, according to the Jewish calendar. In light of that fact, I’d like to take this time to offer all of you my wish that you be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life for a happy, sweet, prosperous and joyous year. I hope all goes well for you all, and that you don’t have too many pitfalls to deal with.

Coming up next on “As The Claim Processes,” alternately known as “As The Cluster Fucks,”:
#100048365 of Convergys, (otherwise known as Amanda), gets a verbal warning, (a mild form of writing-up, or disciplinary action, for those who have remained undefiled by the Convergys).
I was busy taking the phone calls yesterday afternoon, (we’re taking on the call volume for the FT. Pierce center due to their recent encounter with Hurricane Francess), and I was asked by my supervisor to “log into coaching and come to the monitoring room.” For those ex-Convergysites who were never blessed with the opportunity to go to the monitoring room, here follows a brief description of the path taken and the destination reached.
The monitoring room is hidden somewhere within the bowels of the building, out of the way of everything else, and it shares a back wall with the quality room, where the actual quality decisions get made. Think of the monitoring room as … uh … the anal deposit box for quality. You should think of it in this way because, whenever quality wants to shit on you, this is where you’ll be when it happens. And now that you have the preliminaries down, we can return to the entertainment portion of the program.
So I was led away to the monitoring room, and informed that I received an 82.22 percent on one of my calls. Let me state here that the rules have been changed, and the antie been upped. It’s no longer three 0 calls and you’re gone. It’s now three calls under 90 percent and you’re gone. For the first offense, you receive a verbal warning, followed by a written one for the second offense, and “termination due to quality” for the third. I was penalized for the following: Failing to obtain the medication, strength and prescription number from the pharmacist for the claim in question. The pharmacist had given the medication and strength, and had completely spelled out the problem, but I was penalized for not getting the prescription number, and they called it faliling to identify the drug. I was penalized for not keeping the pharmacist informed, after I had already informed the pharmacist I was performing an override for the claim in question, and was in the midst of performing the override. We’re apparently supposed to treat these people like they’re stupid, and can’t figure out what’s going on, even after we’ve informed them. I think maybe I should just say to them, in a mechanical voice, so that I fulfill all the “quality” requirements: “now performing … (name task) … Please wait” every 30 seconds or so, in order to avoid “dead air”, as they call it. The next thing I was penalized for was not asking the pharmacist if they needed further assistance, after the pharmacist had already stated that that was all they needed. “Would you like a hot apple assistance with that????”
My supervisor tried to stop quality from taking as many points as they did, but they wouldn’t budge on it. So I got the verbal warning, and thus have to try my best not to use my brain, or I’ll receive further disciplinary action. I! Hate! This! Fucking! Job!!!! The whole thing is fucking ridiculous. Customer service sucks. And I’m tired of taking it up the ass for $8.50 an hour. Yes, it’s finally $8.50 an hour. So I’m going to keep at this as long as I can, and save up the money, and get the fuck away from Convergys.

I figure since I have the day off, I’ll take this opportunity to post. Things are fucked-up as usual at work. I came down with something this week, still haven’t figured out whether it was food poisoning or some sort of stomach virus, but either way, the end result was the same. Lots of output … uh, I mean, pukage. And you’d think that the folks I work for would have let me take the two days necessary to get over it, right? Wrong! I had to go to work, and literally go puke between phone calls. I was pretty muchy over it by about 10:00 last night, but I honestly have no idea how I made it through the last two days. I know I took the phone calls, though, and that I still have a job, so it must not have been below Convergys standard. What a bunch of bullshit. I do know that puking on my supervisor seemed like a really good idea at the time, but I just never managed to have to puke when he was around. Puking on the operations manager would have been cool too. We have a bunch of new people at work for the AT&T project, and they’re pretty much the same kind of people, except they’re loud and obnoxious. Or maybe that was the fact that I really wasn’t feeling good coming in to play. Probably a little of both. Anyway, they’ve turned the pattio, which used to be a haven for smokers and other normal people in to some sort of … well … an extention of the floor, without the beep. So no more peace after 7:00. They’ve switched my lunch to around 8:00 or 9:00, and that used to mean peace and quiet while I ate. That was the only good thing about it. But not any more. And now they’re telling us that they don’t want us hitting the mute button to make comments about pharmacists being stupid, because it damages the morale of the other employees. Pretty soon, they’ll make it a rule. YOu know how it is, they know that most of us, even the smart ones, do the bare minimum, because, what’s the point of working extra hard when they’re going to screw you anyway? My supervisor was blocking the door last night, asking those on their way out if they would work some overtime. He got a resounding “no” from most. So he and the other supervisors had to get on the phone. That was funny. John was watching the cue, and got on Terry for being in aftercall. That was hilarious, but what was even funnier was Terry’s response. When John asked him what he was in, (aftercall or auto-in), Terry told him that he was in whatever he wanted to be in. It’s funny what happens when you put one supervisor in charge of another. It’s like a mini-agent-supervisor relationship on display.

As the subject says, this has been an interesting one. Andrew got bitten by the Bohican, (for those who don’t know, “Bohican” is an acronym for “Bend Over Here It Comes Again”, signifying the monster that inhabits Convergys, seeking to get any employee, and screw them in whatever way possible, having a fond taste for the hard-working employees, and is probably in the direct employ of Human Resources, but obeys the business manager, operations manager, service level, and any other supervisor who chooses to harness its power). We were in cue as usual Wednesday night, but the supervisor in charge had an extremely low level of competence, “when is that ever a surprise), and thus didn’t realize that Andrew was in the wrong split, and consequently, wasn’t taking as many phone calls as the rest of us. So, said supervisor takes the logical course of action, and brings the matter to the attention of Andrew’s supervisor. After all, we can’t have acting supervisors being shown as incompetent, can we? As a result of the acting supervisor going to Andrew’s supervisor, Andrew was fired the next day. There were two supervisors who tried to come to his defense, but by the time they found out what was happening, crucifixion-on-the-down-low had already begun. But Andrew didn’t go like a lamb to the slaughter. When he cam back on the floor to get his stuff, he announced to every agent there that they need to watch their back, because Convergys has a knife ready for each of them too, and they have no problem sacrificing their employees in order to avoid looking idiotic, or better yet, better one man go than actually spend the time and effort to fix the system already in place. The human Resources director informed Andrew that he had two minutes to get off the floor. Andrew asked if it looked like he was dallying, and told the HRD that they could take his money away, but they weren’t getting his turkey sandwitches. The whole thing was tragic and funny at the same time. Andrew was a hard worker, and his not being there makes a difference. AFter all, when 85 percent or more of the other people there don’t work, it’s hard enough. But when yo lose a hard worker on top of that, it gets even more difficult. Andrew says he’s willing to take me back and forth to work, for which I am very appreciative. But, apparently, the Human Resources director cursed Andrew with the power of the Bohican, because when he was taking me home from work Thursday night, his radiator blew. As a result I’ll be cabbing it back and forth, and everywhere else I need to go, until further notice. very very expensive. On top of that, I was informed by my supervisor, (who happens to be the same acting supervisor from the story just told), on Friday that “we’re having a pot-luck” on Tuesday. How the hell am I supposed to provide something, and have enough for sixteen people, given the current situation? Any ideas would be appreciated, as well as overall suggestions. Everybody take care.

Well folks, the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrived last night at
work. It was finally my turn to leave the floor for some quiet time, except
I had to send myself away, because it was after 11:00, and there are no
supervisors on the floor at that point, or at least not any who give a shit.
Not that most of them give a shit, but, you know, it’s relative. Category
three verbal melt down, that had the potential to turn in to a break-things
situation, and would have if I hadn’t went outside to cool off, which only
slightly worked. I was still extremely pissed when I walked back in, but
levels were no longer critical. Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent last
night, which was closer to the events, and which I composed while I was
still pissed:
I got in from work a little while ago. I fucking hate that god damned job.
I hate the fact that nothing ever fucking works right around that den of
trash, and I hate the fact that half the fucking people that work there
don’t do any work, and I hate the fact that I’m getting screwed every chance
I fucking turn, along with the other people who work hard. I hate stupid,
trashy people. And I hate rude fucking idiot pharmacists who think they’re
better than everybody else, and rude fucking members, and idiotic
supervisors, and listening to the same ghetto shit every god damned day, and
headsets, and Americans who can’t speak English because they were too lazy
to finish high school and decided to go have tons of kids instead, and the
fact that they’re aren’t any better job options around here, and the
headaches, and the tention, and this shit town, and this entire fucking
region, and customer service, and Express Scripts, and Convergys, and poorly
maintained computers over which I have no control, and fat-ass former
janitors-turned-network-admins who don’t know how to do their fucking jobs,
and even if they did, wouldn’t because they’re too busy fucking agents, and
the fact that I have to continue putting up with this shit because I have to
pay my bills, at least until they decide to lay us off because they can’t
manage to get a permanent fucking contract with anybody, because upper
management can’t figure out how to run a business professionally, and the
fucking business manager brags about the drugs he does, and Hr pukes who
walk around trying to find people to fire, while totally overlooking the
people who put pharmacists on hold, and release incoming calls, and give out
wrong information, because they’re too stupid or lazy to do any real work,
and so they can finish their little talent shows because they happen to be
the right skin color. I’d like to kick something, or break something right
now. I’d kick a hole in the wall, but I don’t have the wherewithal to fix
it, and that would be really irresponsible. I should be asleep, but I’m too
pissed off. And I have to do this all over again tomorrow, and wednesday,
and Thursday. By the time Friday gets here, I will have worked nine days
straight, with no overtime pay. It’s one thing if you decide to do that
because you want the extra money, but for them to do it, and then pay you
the same rates is re-god-damned-diculous. Fuck them. Our supervisors get
unlimited paid-time-off, unlimmited sick days, and most of them don’t even
do any fucking work. Fuck them too. People better be glad I’m not world
fucking dictator. Otherwise, the state of california would be turned in to
a camp for all the stupid people to be segregated from the rest of society.
People who don’t bathe, or who bathe in cheap perfume and/or cologne, would
go to the same place.

Finally got a chance to catch up on the journals. Sorry I haven’t been around for a while, but it seems you’re all doing relatively well. I remember telling myself that I’d probably post more when I started working, because there’d be more to tell. That hasn’t happened, do to my extremely screwed-up work schedule. I’ll have to get used to doing this again. Is there any way any one of you can tell me what email address you use to post via the email gateway, as well as how to cross-post between journals? Thanks, and, I’ll try to write more.

I was listening when the news broke. Paul Johnson, after being abducted by terrorists, was beheaded. The video has already been released to Al Arabia, and will probably be on the ‘Net shortly. There are also pictures. This is sick. But the fact that, not only his family, but tens of Saudi Arabians and other Muslims pleaded for his release, (one Muslim man even going so far as to take Johnson under his protection and guarantee as a Muslim, even though he wasn’t officially a Muslim), was extremely heartwarming. Kind of makes you stop and think. We all get carried away with our individual squobbles. But Paul Johnson’s family has to start dealing with the fact that they’ll never see their loved one again, until they meet him again in Paradise. I think anyone who has any amount of sense or decency should stop and think about that for a moment, at least for today. May Paul Johnson’s family, along with the families of Nick Berg and Daniel Pearl, (both of whom died in the exact same fashion), be comforted among the mourners of Tziyon and Yerushalayim.