Notes from a small city, tales from a big town - Chapter 4

Yesterday, I had an experience that startled me so much that I accidentally coughed up the beetroot salad I was glumly chewing and spewed it over the white shirt my wife bought me... though, in retrospect, it doesn’t really require a special event to achieve this. I usually, absent-mindedly end up messing on my clothes anyway.

What startled me and caused the dark purplish reddish ejection to dribble down my only designer labelled shirt was when I called Telkom AND SOMEBODY ANSWERED THE LINE!

Now, being a South African, I consider myself a veteran and legendary war hero of the tinny voiced IVR system most companies use these days. We all know the drill:

Your call is important to us, so please hold while we play some horrible tune on loop and find

the most atrocious, most unreasonable and insanely unhelpful Call Centre Advisor for you

Press 1 for any account related query

Press 2 if you wish to sign up to play for Bafana Bafana

Press 3 if your electricity bill has shocked you

Press 4 if you can’t believe you’ve reached this far in this IVR system

Press 5 if you want to hear more about cheese

If you don’t select any of the mentioned options, we will send out a Bloemfontein librarian to strangle you.

Press Star if you want to hear all that mumbo jumbo again

Or if you’d like, please hold for an hour while we play Justin Bieber singing Baby Baby on a 2 second loop

Nothing however, has ever prepared me for what followed that momentous day when after a mere 400 rings, a real live human being answered the line.

Her name was Jamie. She asked me for my ID number and I asked her for hers. She asked me for my personal address and I asked her for hers. Though I was very forthcoming providing my personal details, she was very reluctant to offer hers. I didn’t mind though. I just wanted to find out about my account. Jamie then did something so remarkable, I still get goosebumps thinking about it. She said: “hmmmm... hold on a moment for me Dave. Let me see what I can do.”

You missed it, didn’t you?

“Hold on a moment for me Dave. Let me see what I can do.”

Firstly – she called me Dave! Not Sir. Not my Royal Majestic Bill Payer Extraordinaire. Not my Super Intergalactic Highness with great shoulder blades and a fondness for all things cheesy. Just Dave! I liked it! It became personal. She also said “Let me see what I can do”. Immediately, I felt at ease. Jamie was tackling my query. She was fighting my fight. She was my Lone Ranger and B.A. Barracus and my Bud Spencer and Airwolf all rolled up into one. She was going skop, skiet and Don the dragon my problems away!

Often, I hear of people who end up in tears after speaking to foreign call centres. Stories often conjure visions of smoky Mumbai sweatshops filled with stressed looking folk donning headsets and smelling of incense, dropping calls to make target. Or stern looking Polish people who look like Olympic shot-put throwers, all trapped inside bleak decaying buildings saying “Ja, Ja, Ja” alot. Or cold Canadian campers chattering profound apologies for everything that ever went wrong in your life... And the stories I hear never end well.

So I am quite happy that companies like Teleperformance, CAPITA, Serco, WNS, etc – have all opened up call centres right here in Sunny South Africa. The visuals my mind fashion of SA Call Centres are very different. I picture Advisors offering Bunny Chows to British Gas customers as compensation for some poor service rendered, or Worsrolletjies to American customers as bribes to steer clear from our Sunfower Oil deposits at Pick n Pay.

Jamie came back on the line with news I expected: “Dave. I see this line has been disconnected since February last year?”

“Why yes Jamie. That’s what I’m calling about. I’m still being charged”

“Did you pay the bill in February last year?”

“Yes, I did”

“Did you keep the slip?”

“Jamie, it’s more than a year ago. I can’t even keep beetroot in my mouth for more than a few seconds... I have a pet hamster. He stores paper a lot. I can ask him if he has it?”

“I would need that slip, Sir, so I may forward it to our Accounts division who will fax it to the division who escalates it to the department that misplaces things and end up issuing final written warnings to customers who do not keep their slips in a vault for very long periods”.... well, that’s what I understood anyway.

At this point, I realised that she no longer called me ‘Dave’. Her tone changed from friendly to contempt. I wanted to keep her happy. She was fighting my battle! So I mumbled an apology and said I’ll have a look-see on my bank statements, which would cost me a few Rand to recover. I also realise that she was very good! She controlled that call. She made me do all the leg work. I’d even forgotten all the other questions I had planned to ask.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today, Dave?” (I was Dave again! Our relationship was back!)

“Uhm... Do you perhaps know how to get rid of a Beetroot stain?”

“Yes, that’s easy. Soak it in a product called Vanish”.

I thanked her and we parted ways. I would’ve liked her to have rectified Telkom’s mistake as well as answer the questions I had about opening a new account, but at least I made a friend who called me Dave. And she was right about that Vanish detergent.

My shirt looks bloody new!