Thursday, July 24, 2003
The thing is that I'm not really meant for telemarketing. I don't mind ringing people and I don't mind asking people questions, but I don't like having to try to sell them some kind of stupid product of which I know nothing anyway.
Danish people are generally very sweet, though. As long as you are cheery and brief, then they are friendly. The best thing I know is when I ring someone, present myself and the company I allegedly work for, and then they greet me with: 'HI!' That's nice. That means that they don't hate me.
Some people don't mind talking and are genuinely interested in my product and throw all sorts of obscure industry-speak at me, and I try to pretend that I know what they're talking about and feel guilty because I don't. Some people are apprehensive but open to suggestions and make the experience pleasant, even though they are not interested in what I offer. I like those guys. Some people just don't want to talk and are annoyed that I ring but are too polite to tell me to fuck off. I must admit to throwing someone a bone today, and telling him that I have to ring him, but if he tells me straight away that he's not interested, I'll go away without further questioning. It was wrong of me, I know. But I think he was happy. And I think it saved me from quite a bit of verbal abuse too.
And then there's the people who make a big deal out of telling me that they have thrown our advertising directly in the bin, that they hate the company and that we are scum. I don't understand why they bother. A polite 'no' suffices.
Sometimes people sound so nice, like a dad or something, that I can't help liking them immediately. Like the guy from my home town who, after having talked to me for a few minutes, said, in that funny dialect of ours, which only sounds endearing in old men, if I could email him? 'Cause he was actually in the canteen, cooking lunch.
Sometimes people's voices are really attractive. Smoother than the operator, friendlier than Friends, cheekier than the Cheeky Girls. I just want to keep talking to these people, them being a safe haven from all the weirdoes and the boredom of the questionnaire.
Things I Don't Know, 4:
How to drive a car.
Danish people are generally very sweet, though. As long as you are cheery and brief, then they are friendly. The best thing I know is when I ring someone, present myself and the company I allegedly work for, and then they greet me with: 'HI!' That's nice. That means that they don't hate me.
Some people don't mind talking and are genuinely interested in my product and throw all sorts of obscure industry-speak at me, and I try to pretend that I know what they're talking about and feel guilty because I don't. Some people are apprehensive but open to suggestions and make the experience pleasant, even though they are not interested in what I offer. I like those guys. Some people just don't want to talk and are annoyed that I ring but are too polite to tell me to fuck off. I must admit to throwing someone a bone today, and telling him that I have to ring him, but if he tells me straight away that he's not interested, I'll go away without further questioning. It was wrong of me, I know. But I think he was happy. And I think it saved me from quite a bit of verbal abuse too.
And then there's the people who make a big deal out of telling me that they have thrown our advertising directly in the bin, that they hate the company and that we are scum. I don't understand why they bother. A polite 'no' suffices.
Sometimes people sound so nice, like a dad or something, that I can't help liking them immediately. Like the guy from my home town who, after having talked to me for a few minutes, said, in that funny dialect of ours, which only sounds endearing in old men, if I could email him? 'Cause he was actually in the canteen, cooking lunch.
Sometimes people's voices are really attractive. Smoother than the operator, friendlier than Friends, cheekier than the Cheeky Girls. I just want to keep talking to these people, them being a safe haven from all the weirdoes and the boredom of the questionnaire.
Things I Don't Know, 4:
How to drive a car.
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