Call of the dark

My first real job was that of a sports journalist with DNA (Daily News & Analysis). I say real because I also worked as a call centre executive when in Hyderabad. It was no less interesting; calling people in far away continents, pleading, badgering, sweet-talking (that’s a gift only the best salesmen possessed) them into buying a service that could “help you save $40 a year!” I remember this particular time of the night, every night (did I forget to mention, work was during the night), well early morning would be more like it, around 4 am, when all those callers on the floor would stand up.

Fighting what we knew was a losing battle against sleep and snore, the only way to stay awake was to stand up. To those who scoff (worse deride) at call center executives, I throw the gauntlet. To make a sale on the phone to a people about whom we knew nothing of, in my view is quite an achievement. Try it. The job itself is not as bad as some weary looking call center executives could suggest. There were some who really loved the rush of selling. It was part talent and part deception, and they have the skill for both.

Naturally I sucked. A job that required me making so many sacrifices; sleep (on an everyday basis!), sunlight and a social life was never very appealing. Once during my induction, I fell asleep when my assigned buddy (in call center parlance, your mentor) was showing and teaching and I was supposed to be watching and learning. Instead I was sleeping and dreaming. My gentle team leader, Haadi (yeah that’s a name) always cordial, came and gave me the mildest of rebukes, telling me about the domino effect my sleep might induce. God bless him.

The worst time of the day for a call centre executive is at night when the cabs come to pick you up. There is a clear drawing of a line here; a case of us versus them. The rest of the world is readying themselves to sleep, while you are marching forth to express solidarity with those in another continent, who have had their sleep the previous night. It’s the brown man’s burden, empowering the white man to save $40 dollars a year on gas. The feeling of desolation on watching the deserted streets where your cab zooms past can only be neutralized by the chatter and cheer inside it. In that call centre execs can’t be found wanting. There are always stories to share; before calls, after calls and even between calls.

Oh, how I have rambled on. Digressed right from the first sentence, when it was my intention to write about my days in DNA. That was a job I loved and I suspect was good at it too. Working under Ayaz Memon was great. Then why did I leave it? For the same reason I joined the call centre. Experiences. ZZZzzz….