I've decided that since this blog started entirely because of my dissatisfaction with my professional life, I should give some background. So here's some explanation of what has gotten me to this point and what I'm trying to do about it.
I hate my job. That's so harsh, but it is what it is. The company is a great company to be a part of, but I'm not part of the company. Sure, anyone can make the argument that every position is vital to the company's success, no matter how big or small. One could make the argument that I'm a part of the company because I do the exact same work my full-time co-workers do. But I don't work for the company. I work for a staffing agency and have very little job security. I have zero idea when this assignment/position will end, and frankly, neither do my bosses. That's utterly terrifying. And considering said staffing agency assured me it was a temp to hire position and it's not, I have even more reason to be anxious.
My coworkers are great and all the temps get along really well, but the only time we interact is on our half hour lunch break. And that's only if we have our lunches scheduled together, which can't be garaunteed. I talk to people for eight hours straight, but I don't really interact with anyone. Even communication with customers all day long would be fine if it was face to face. I can answer a call, apologize and thank like no other, but do I really communicate? Do I really have solid interactions with anyone? Which leads me to my next point. I'm not making any kind of difference in anyone's life. Sure, I can replace a box of faulty diapers and save some people money, but what am I doing? Half the people I "help" don't even appreciate it. They're selfish, greedy and think they're entitled to the world. So many calls I get are about the pettiest of things. Codes not working for our rewards program, expecting an entire box of diapers to be replaced for one leaky diaper, commericals being played too much, and coupons. For Christ's sake, don't forget the coupons.
My job is easy but it makes me miserable. Taking call after call for eight hours is enough to make one crazy, but taking complaints for eight hours is just unbearable. I get yelled at every day, and 9 times out of 10, it's over next to nothing. Your kid's diaper leaked? Well, did you change it? Someone called a few weeks ago because their kid peed four times in the diaper and it leaked all over. Working in this job makes me understand what it's like to raise a teenager: people don't listen. When I tell people what codes I need from the box, where to find them and what they'll look like and they give me something completely unrelated on the opposite side of the box, I could just scream. When I get interrupted, talked over and blatantly ignored, I could jump through the phone and just strangle them. When people talk for 20 minutes straight about how awful our products are, without me so much as working in a "oh no," and tell me over and over they should just switch brands, I would love nothing more than to shout out, "Fine! Switch brands. Your $30 a week is not going to break our multi-million dollar company. Do whatever you have to do to get me off this phone call."
I make pretty good money, but I did not go to school to work in a call center for diapers. I spent thousands of dollars on a great education, and don't regret one second of it. I am very passionate about writing and literature. I want to write, proofread, edit, update social media, do public relations, any of the above. Answering shitty diaper calls 101 somehow missed my list of classes to take. My degree is going to waste. I spent thousands and thousands of dollars for a pretty piece of paper and that's all I have to show for four years of my life. When I was hired, the staffing agency told me I'd be writing letters, sending e-mails and updating social media. Imagine my surprise when I started my first day and my trainer said "Welcome to our call center." Needless to say, I'm not doing any of those things. I've been there five months and have yet to get trained on e-mail and will more than likely never be working on social media. Not to mention if I do get trained on e-mail, it will just be entering codes into an automated system to create a canned response e-mail. I won't actually be writing e-mails.
Part two: "Solutions to this problem" coming later this weekend.
Freewriting prompt: Write about a man who got stood up on a date.
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