Might As Well Disconnect; They’re Already Disconnected From Reality

I’ve worked at different call centers from auto insurance to pharmacy to furniture. I’ve developed a pretty thick skin and really, there are very few things that bother me. I can usually work an entire shift without getting upset. Usually.

Today, I get a call where the lady manages to do every single thing I hate.

Mid-opening spiel, the lady interrupts me.

Customer: “Hey, hey, stop. Just stop. I don’t need to hear this. I want to make a payment. My name is [Customer].”

Strike one. I hate being cut off — on purpose — just for you to be rude.

Me: “Okay, I can help you with that. May I have your account number?”

Customer: “No. I’m not giving that to you.”

Me: “Okay, well, I need to locate your account to take the payment.”

Customer: “Why do you need my number? I gave you my name; that should be enough.”

Really? Are you being serious?

Me: *In my calmest voice* “I’m afraid I need more information. If you don’t want to give me your account number, that’s okay; I can look it up with your Social Security number or phone number.”

Customer: “I’m not giving you either. I don’t give my phone out, and if I don’t give that, do you really think I’ll give you my SSN?”

Me: “Okay, I can try—”

Customer: “Don’t tell me; just do it. And hurry it up. I don’t have all day.”

Strike two. You’re not going to rush me. I really hate that. Especially when YOU’RE the reason it’s taking so long.

Me: “Can I have your address?”

Customer: “Oh, my f****** God. What do you want, my blood type? The names of my children? Fine, here’s my d*** account.”

And she proceeds to speed-read it to me in a blur of numbers.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, it was breaking up a little. Can you repeat that?”

It’s BS, but I thought it the most “polite way” to tell her, “Slow the h*** down.”

Customer: “Oh. My. God. Are you stupid? Or just incompetent? Where are you? You’re in the Philippines, aren’t you? You people are useless. Get me someone in the US!”

Strike three. First, don’t get so personal with me. You’re angry? I get it, but I’m not your punching bag. Now, this doesn’t bother me as much. But being insulting AND racist? That’s a definitive no-go with me. I won’t put up with you after that.

At this point, I’m about to hang up on her, but I decide to have a little fun. If she’s going to be a jerk, I can be a jerk, too. Now, I don’t usually do this, but… some people just deserve it.

Me: “I’m in the US, ma’am — in Arizona, to be precise. Now, may I have your account number again?”

Customer: “What’s the capital of Arizona? Quick, don’t Google it.”

Me: “Phoenix. Now, would you like me to help you?”

Customer: *Exaggerated sigh* “Fine. I don’t believe you, but I don’t have time for this anymore. The account is [account number]. My password is [password]. My address is [address]. I want to make a payment for [bill] withdrawn on [date].”

Again, she says all that in three seconds flat. The account hasn’t even populated. It indeed has a password.

Me: “Okay, ma’am, you said you wanted to use the account ending in [digits]?”

Customer: “Oh, my God, Jesus, I hate this company. Yes, that’s what I said. I told you already, dumba**. Are you even listening to me? Do you understand English?”

Me: “Ma’am, for accuracy reasons, I need to verify this information lest we take the money from the wrong account, which would cause you unwanted fees.”

Customer: “You’re d*** right, you’re not charging me any fees. I’ve been a customer for [number] years, and if you want to keep my business — which I’m probably going to take elsewhere anyway based on how poorly I’ve been treated — you’re not penalizing me. Are we done here?” 

Strike four. Entitlement. I hate these “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, I’m your boss, I’m your god” people.

At this point, I’m just having fun with her before I unplug my ethernet cable. I found out that when I do this (I work from home), it shows as a connectivity issue with the virtual desktop on the company’s end, not mine. I never use this — ace in the hole and all that — except in situations like this, or when I’m at my shift’s end and have to leave and the customer won’t hang up.

Me: “Well, just so you know, said fees are not ours; we would be charged these fees by your bank and we wouldn’t be able to waive them.”

Customer: “Really? Well, you would! I am a great customer, and you would be idiots to let me go!”

Ha! She took the bait! She then proceeds to rant for a couple of minutes, wasting more of her time. I don’t care. My AHT (average handle time) has gone to h*** anyway; we’re at twenty-plus minutes by now.

Customer: “I have to go. Did you do your job and take my payment?”

Me: “One second. I just need to read a disclosure.”

We actually do have a disclosure.

Customer: “I’m already over my lunch! HURRY!”

I did mention how I hate being rushed, right?

I started reading the disclosure and unplugged the Ethernet cable. I didn’t finish the disclosure and thus didn’t get her approval, which meant I couldn’t take the payment, which meant she’d have to call back.

I know, I know, I’m an a***hole. But I just hate people like this with all my might — especially her being racist, as a foreign-born US citizen who lived outside the US for half my life but moved a decade ago.

It was a bittersweet call in that I really wanted to punch something after that call, and I had to log out for a minute to take a breath, but I also felt a twinge of happiness just imagining her face and attitude when the call dropped.