HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
June 23, 2003 Today was another wasted day in front of the computer, answering phones. I had given up trying to find positive things to say about my job. The effort I was placing on looking for something good to say was getting me even more depressed when it was hard enough to even get up and out of bed in the mornings knowing what I look forward to. That equaled I was actually doing something pertaining to work, before I even got there. No wonder I felt complete exhaustion by the time I arrived to work. My job was rather simple, answer phones, make reservations for people to stay at our lovely hotel, though seriously overpriced if you ask me, which some people did and much to the horror of my supervisor, I answered honestly, and make sure the guests receive a confirmation letter in the mail. While I was expected to know a lot of information on the hotel, the huge fifty-page binder held all the information I could ever want and more. Anything that I didnt retain from my regular monotonous spiel could be found within the index. I felt that if I still couldnt remember how many years my parents have been married, then I certainly didnt need to spend too much time worrying about how many acres the property sat on, whether or not whales migrated there and those exact dates. Today was going to be a bit of an exception and had I known this prior, I may have walked into work with a little bounce in my step rather than the application of Vaseline to my lips to keep that smile in place should I walk by the only two people on the whole property who could ever make my paycheck a worthwhile piece of paper someday. So far I had failed to get that probably not so deserved raise, but I felt like it couldnt hurt to keep trying. Incidentally, the act of trying in my life pretty much spells failure and disaster, so it was in my nature to try. If I didnt have enough to complain about, then I knew something was really wrong in my life and I would have to waste more time by beginning sessions with a therapist. I would prefer to label myself prone to losing it because that in itself keeps me sane. As I mentioned, the job itself isnt hard. Listening to over eighty people everyday expressing their wants and needs and cursing myself as well as the property when I cant accommodate them, well, that is where it gets hard. My self-esteem plummeted pretty much after my first week on the phones. After a few years I was used to the ranting and ravings, the snooty rich people, and the alarming number of excuses for why I shouldnt charge them a late fee. My all time favorite subject to get my eyes rolling were the use of titles before the guests names. Between the secretaries and the wives, you would think this world revolved around people who have a few words or a status placed in front of their name and they felt it their job to make sure I got it right. Now, I have complete respect for doctors and lawyers, pediatricians and judges. However, when I am typing in a name, I have only so much room to place on the header. My computer doesnt accommodate for a ten-word description of what the person does in their life. Not only do these people demand respect for their profession, they also demand for discounts and anything free they can possibly get. I have to laugh at this because I am a mother, daughter, friend, writer, reservationist, and a lover. I do not ask for people to make reservations under my name as author so and so or new best friend blah blah blah, I simply leave my name and that is that. What I do for a living does not make me who I am. I do not need that recognition because I dont have a complex about myself. I guess for those who need constant attention and dont feel themselves worthy enough, they need to let everyone know they have spent X amount of years in school and they hold a degree in some field or another. I appreciate what you have done to get where you are, but personally, I would treat a doctor the same as I would a vendor selling nachos with salsa and cheese on top. I mean if you are using your title within the facility you work please do so because that is perfectly acceptable. However, to an average person like myself, I am not suddenly wishing to kiss your feet or give you the red carpet treatment because you have thrown a title at me. If you are suffering from this annoying need to make yourself feel better because your whole life revolves around work and nothing else measures up to the satisfaction you feel you receive when you attempt to pull your weight around, please note that you need to find a new outlet in which to boost your self-esteem that doesnt pertain to work. I placed the headset on, pushed the receiving calls button, and took my first call of the day. Ten repetitious reservations later, I got a new kind of call. It began the same with questions on date availability and room descriptions. After displaying amazing ability with my thumb on the index page, I wowed her into submission and moved on to requesting all her vital statistics to place into the database. Believe me, it sounds so much more exciting then it actually is. The woman went on to explain to me she was the wife of a highly paid specialist physician, something something, who worked in a unique hospital for rare diagnosed patients on a secluded island and wouldnt be able to reveal the location. Now I know she was wanting me to ooh and ah about this but I really worked hard stifling the laughter that was welling up inside. Last I looked we didnt have a special discount for that particular position, or disorder, whichever, but I mustered up the small amount of professionalism that I am prone to every now and then and let her know that the rate I gave her was what was offered to her. Next came about five minutes of beautiful poetic put downs and negative commentary. More than anything she placed the emphasis on what her husband did for a living and that I should be thankful there was someone like him in this world. I sat back in my chair with my feet upon my desk, waiting for her to take a breath. Finally she said her last low blow and I guess felt better about herself and now her world could resume to catering to her, and she again waited for my response. I did the standard apology on how I couldnt accommodate her this time, hopefully in the future she could stay with us. Her response back was a nice hearty slam of the phone that gave me an unusual sense of accomplishment. It wasnt to be mean and it wasnt to not sell a room that day, it was the principle of the thing. I am a wonderful mother, caring daughter, struggling writer, underachieving reservationist, and someones love interest, but I dont need everyone else to know that. I resent even having to mark the box on forms as to whether to call me Ms or Mrs. because its really not necessary. I am who I am and words in front of my name will never change that. Anyhow, I felt really good receiving my paycheck at the end of that week, I earned it. I know there will be many more wives of super doctors who rid the world of unknown diseases and such calling to get the red carpet rolled out for them, major discounts, and to make sure I address their confirmation letters in the same manner, but really, taking life that seriously just isnt healthy. Just to prove my point that titles arent really important, I decided to go ahead and leave this untitled, intentionally. ------------ About the author: Nancy Jackson is a full time author and poet with works in Literati, Twilight Times, Anotherealm, Sonny World, and various anthologies. Her pasttimes include spending time with her loved ones, drinking wine, and lots of writing! Email Nancy Jackson: coryann93@yahoo.com Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
