The Call Centre

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By Jane Hyphen

Fri, 29 Apr 2016
  • 2256 reads
10 comments
 

 

 

Inside the monitor, head-set melded

Ear-bending, say nothing

Flesh pressed against the glass

Too thick to break

Too little space to knock or air to cry

For help - I need it more than they

From nothingness I must

Care, maintain the will

But how far they throw their vitriol

Like spit it splatters at my spirits damp

My innards wrecked and tempers all acramp

Choking on my fate I twist my belly flesh

I fidget, gasp check no-one sees

But nobody ever turns their head

Masked voices block the sun, channel hate

And it’s all okay because I have no face

More wait in line with clubs and poison darts

Their numbers rise within my box of light

Like a rising pulse as my toilet break is timed

And tinnitus stored up to last the night

What point is there to this?

Blindly conversing primates on a line

And in each other’s screed a knowing tone  

Both intimate, remote in animosity

Brain signals down an ever bended arm

I type, glance a photo of Billy Mackenzie

All wrapped in whippets, I steal a shred of calm

I’m not lost, there is reprieve

This fog will clear, I’ll see the sign

The exit sign, I’ll follow it and leave  

 

 

Certificate U
Poem

Comments

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Wonderful sense of claustrophobia.

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Thanks for your comment magicdarer, call centres are unhealthy places. A strangers voice in your ear with no accompanying body - in any other world that would be called a ghost. The cherries, an unexpected treat.

Philip - thank you for commenting. Claustrophobia yes - you're essentially chained up and tortured by angry human voices.

 

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Sounds worse than filling envelopes, though there should be less monotony and some interest, but it gives an insight into how it must be coninuously on 'the other end', and the pent up anger when the callers feel they don't know how to convey quickly their reason for phoning, and maybe have had much frustration getting through, or speaking to other voices they couldn't understand, or kept jumping to the wrong conclusions (maybe because caller was unclear, muddled or rushing their tale!) and obviously venting anger against you, the 'messenger'. The impersonality not helping both sides, maybe emails are better. I hope you have some better, pleasanter clients. It would help a lot if there was time for a bit of cameraderie amongst the staff wouldn't it? Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

You're so right Rhiannon - time for cameraderie would improve things but there just isn't and breaks are split too. A pleasant call goes a long way.

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

Makes me twitchy!! The entrapped employee well conveyed

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This fantastic poem is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day and also our Poem of the Week - Congratulations!

 

Picture Credit:http://tinyurl.com/zknrjhy

 

Submitted by celticman on

god, one of the worst jobs. I always smile when they claim Glasgow has created so many new jobs with three or four spanking new call centres. Fuck off I say. 

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Oh it's' gone gold - thank you muchblush x I'm leaving next week and plan to spend the next few weeks sitting in a wood staring into space until my pulse comes back. Thanks Insert.

Twitchy indeed Vera - actually quite a high suicide rate among call centre staff I've discovered.

Fuck off I say too celtic. Glasgow population have enough health problems without adding call centres to the mix. 

 

 

 

Submitted by Nolan on

We watched a movie about this the other day. At first the call-centre thought it was prank. In the end the call-centre lady had to go for counceling.

Cheers & Nolan

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Thanks Noo!

Nolan, what's the film called? Thanks for commenting