And so it begins. It's another Monday. The worker finds himself up before the sun rises, every movement of his measured by a rush against the clock. His shift begins in two hours. It will be just like any other day in his life so far - 8 or more hours sitting at a desk, his keystrokes monitored by eyes thousands of miles away in another office, the artificial glow of fluorescent lighting overhead, the daily repetition of a task he often does dozens upon dozens of times each day. Each hour during the day crawls by at the pace of a snail. At times, he finds himself worrying about how he will pay his bills come next paycheck. They keep promising a raise, but he hasn't seen one for over five years now. He looks out the window to a park across the street - young couples stroll up and down the neatly maintained paths, bursts of color strewn at key points throughout the park. Off in the distance, a lone photographer capturing, in carefully timed movements, the images of a vibrant, warm spring afternoon. Near the stream, a lone artist sits, an easel in front of her, her hands moving gracefully as she captures a scene of unparalleled beauty. Feeling that familiar tug at the strings of his heart, the worker sighs and turns back to the glowing screen in front of him, the dry air scratching the back of his throat, the sounds surrounding him not that of happy kids or the sounds of nature, but the endless drone of ringing phones and of idle conversations that give him a grievous headache. He first thinks to himself of the dreams he had that never came true, and then mentally begins again a weekly ritual - the countdown to his precious few hours off with the arrival of Friday evening. He thinks of how exhausted he feels. He aches to find meaning in his life, to find a way to do the things which, when thought of, make his heart leap with joy and make him feel alive, engaged. A long week, indeed.
And it is here where I begin my dialogue. In every way, I can relate to that worker. I'm now him, only in my case, my view on one side of the building is a concrete highway. On another side, I cannot even see the windows - blocking my way is row after row of half-cubicles, all filled with people whose world consists of nightclubs, call center stories, idle chatter about sports teams they have no financial stake in, endless refrains of the same script used to greet incoming callers and the constant ringing of phones. When I am able to approach those windows...I can see some of the mountains west of the city, but most of it is blocked by drab buildings bearing the same colors - concrete gray or beige, with too few windows. Many of them have corporate logos on them, some of which may be familiar to you - Marriott, Shell, AAA. Similar to that anonymous worker in that anonymous office, I find myself in a position where the pay is not that great, yet the expectations are that of someone with double the responsibilities and double the pay. On warm days like that sunny, warm scene I described in a park, I too sit in an office that presents itself as monotonous. Any attempts at creativity or daring ideas are met by one single word: no.
I'm surrounded day in, day out, by people who talk of a better life. More often than not, though, that talk eventually steers back towards which call centers are the best, which ones pay the best. So far, I'm in my third call center job. The first one I walked away from, frustrated over missing pay, incessant monitoring for the most ridiculous of things in the world and a biased management system. The second I ran from after less than 3 hours on the job - the training was lackadaisical and very haphazard, the working space reeking of marijuana, the computer systems very outdated, the rigorous demands for what the job entailed very poorly matched by low pay and low hours and a staff which either seemed to be very apathetic or hostile in the most subtle of ways. And so far, this latest firm is no better, despite the claims of some that they treat you like a human being.
The hours, I suppose, aren't too bad. 40 hours a week...far different from what I previously had done as a Lyft driver on late nights. The location is at least close to where I live. And that right there is where the decent parts end. The pay, $10.00 an hour, still doesn't go far enough - not where bills are concerned. Not where the cost of food is concerned. Not where fuel is concerned. Not where much of anything is concerned, for that matter.
The job's requirements are rather mundane. Each day is almost laughably predictable and mundane, severe in it's very structure: access one system and check all of your cases there to see if anything can be closed. After that, check to see if there are any updates to another system. After that, triage new cases. After that, 20 cases from the vendor queue. After that, another 20 cases from the work in progress queue. After that? Close 5 cases. Considering how slowly both the company we contract for moves along with it's vendors, meeting that goal is often impossible, and any creative attempts to make the process easier are met with stern words of disapproval - it's in the realm of the client, we're told, but they want us to bend over backwards and still get it done even as we are stonewalled, we're told. I find myself more often than not bristling as this, especially considering the pay I receive for my efforts. I've encouraged others to fight for higher pay, but to no avail - I'm left as the only voice in meetings where we ostensibly are supposed to be allowed to voice our concerns, only to be told that it is not the right time or the right place for it. It begs then question: just when is a good time to do exactly that, then?
The question of time off, too, is laughable. The company itself doesn't allow for personal time off. Well, in a technical frame of reference, it does, but you're extremely limited on how and when - in theory, you receive up to 3 hours of paid time off per pay period. There, however, you have to ask for permission for it and hope that work force will grant it. Otherwise, you're expected to make up the time at night or earlier in the morning or risk receiving a write-up for your efforts. The fact alone that you should make sacrifices in exchange for time off for unplanned visits to your doctor, unplanned illnesses that can keep you in bed for at least a few days yet not bad enough to warrant a visit to your doctor, family emergencies, a trip to a vet's office or even something as mundane as renewing your driver's license or even a car breaking down is unheard of in my personal experiences. Most good companies in my experience allow for that kind of time off, with no asking of personal sacrifices in order to bill a client so that a man thousands of miles away can grow richer while playing golf or flying around the world in a private jet.
For at least eight divisions at my company, the restrictions on your schedule are even more limited. I understand that open enrollment is a big thing for HMOs each year. And for us, it boils down to this: either volunteer extra time to us for this period or it will be mandatory. This practice, I feel, is applied indiscriminately with no consideration for second jobs people may be holding - no consideration for anyone taking college courses as part of a degree program that could very well get them out of that cubicle filled hell - no consideration for anyone with kids and no babysitter at all. And all of it to benefit a man flying around the world in a private jet. I often curse the rigidness behind such a system.
Yes, I agree - at least I have a job. But...I even have criticism over the healthcare plans offered in exchange for working there. High cost plans with high deductibles, all offered to managers and regular employees alike, who all are making $10.00 an hour and try to get overtime in just to make ends meet. And during all of this, my anxiety grows. Stories spread everywhere I go of a Vice President for this anonymous company openly referring to workers in terms such as "Burger King babies". I see every day proof of how insecure these workers I sit next to truly are, whether it concerns the wages they earn, the uncertain schedules they are given, the pitiful health benefits they receive, the ease by which they can lose their very jobs over even a simple illness, the lack of a voice in almost all decisions, the constant monitoring by eyes half a world away, the gap between the rich man at the top and the poor at the bottom...it weighs on me. More than anywhere else, I have come to believe this: the call center, more than any other cubicle filled office space, is where dreams go to die. It is, even, where hope itself dies. And I strive every day to try and keep the candle flame of that hope alive.
And so it comes to this: I wish more and more that the people I work with would stand up and fight for themselves. I wish they would stand up and fight for a system in which they get treated as actual human beings with needs and dreams. I wish they would stand up and fight for the higher wages they seem to want...that they would stand up and fight for a more affordable health plan. A fairer schedule. Less rigid rules where creativity and feedback is truly honored. But...as I have seen myself for going on six months...this does not seem to be something that will ever happen. Because this is the new norm in America once more, and it likely will be this way for years to come, just as it was in the early Industrial Revolution, as it was in the late 19th century and as it was in the years directly preceding the Great Depression. Companies are no longer led by corporate statesmen who seek to champion the causes of economic equality, civic engagement, education or even a healthy, well paid motivated work force that can truly build a better society. They're led by men and women whose world consists of unfettered, obscene luxury, and the rest of us mere worker ants left to face a very dreary future. It is here that I leave off with these words from one of the greatest men in all of history:
"No business which depends for existence on paying less than living wages to its workers has any right to continue in this country. By living wages I mean more than a bare subsistence level - I mean the wages of decent living." - President Franklin D. Roosevelt
