My job is really stressful, which will come as a complete surprise to the six of you out there who don’t know someone who works at a call centre. If you know someone who works at a call centre, you don’t need me to add any details, as that person has undoubtedly told you 10,000 times that they hate it. In fact, you probably already know to avoid using “red” words such as, “job,” “employment,” “career,” “work,” “do,” “sit,” “listen,” and if you dare say “service,” that will be taken by your acquaintance as their cue to spill out everything that’s been loaded onto them, onto you. It’s simple physics.
Last night I was sort of one of those people, but the real story is that I went out with Devin and Krista (and Carla and, uh… that guy… um, Dan, were around too), and we had a blast. Devin’s life five years ago would make a good TV show, and I was keeling over repeatedly hearing about it. He’s one of the greatest storytellers I’ve ever met. Krista says not to encourage him, which makes the whole thing a guilty pleasure, which makes it even more fun.
At the beginning Dan commented that perhaps I ought to have someone of my own in tow with me, but I got along fine anyway. I never feel left out around these guys, and tonight was no exception. The person I would have had in mind was busy cleaning the bathrooms to prepare for the return of the master of the household. Speaking of which, I need to get on the horn with her son now, since I missed his call earlier.
Anyway, we stayed out past 2, which was something considering it was a Monday night when just about everything was closed long before then except Tim Horton’s and Pizza Corner. We started out at The Fireside with martinis. Very cool. I’m still getting a warm feeling inside when I think back to it.
Not that I didn’t pay for any of this today; I was tired and stressed out most of the day. In terms of getting irate callers, it was just one after the other, and without the mental alertness to be able to stand my ground ever-so-gently and confidently, I was hopeless. Yet I survived somehow.
Towards the end of the day, we got our shifts back. I had a real system worked out on how to beat the shift bid, which I could tell you about provided you like hearing me talk about other things that I like to talk about but many people in general aren’t especially interested in hearing about. (But I know you few are out there!) Anyway, I took the shift bid sheet home with me last week, and I worked on my top-secret method to get a shift with weekends off At All Costs. This is so I can go to PEI without having to wait for my vacation to kick in, by which time I’ll be on the doorstep of my planned resignation anyway.
Miraculously, in a bid governed by seniority, I got my 19th choice (of 31), the second last of my top 20 choices that all had consecutive days off: Mondays through Fridays, 5:00pm to 1:30am. That means a Saturday morning through Monday morning excursion, any weekend I want! So I was pretty happy with the results of the bid, and I was even a little bit giddy, although regrettably I noticed a lot of glum faces and irate people. Some people who probably deserved to do a lot better in the shift bid, didn’t. In fact, I probably stumbled in past people who didn’t make their bottom choices carefully. Sure, everyone picks their top five or six with an eagle eye, but after that? No, I had a system all the way to the bottom, and it worked, although I suppose it was at somebody else’s expense.
But that wasn’t all. With about ten minutes to go in my shift, I noticed that the marquee on the bottom of my screen was advertising the winning numbers of the “Day Off With Pay” fundraising draw. This draw was important to me, as I saw it as a way I could con a long weekend in June even though I’m not eligible for vacation days until July. So I fished my ticket stubs out of my folder, hopeful, but not really expecting too much.
Except that I won.
Yes, out of the hundreds who entered, I won! Me! I couldn’t stop shaking with glee. I couldn’t believe it. I double and triple-checked the numbers, convinced I’d made a mistake. But no! Now my dream of going to PEI was definitely going to come true! What was it, sheer destiny? How often do you enter a contest thinking, “Man, I have to win that,” and actually win? And just when it really counts!
The people I trained with were really happy for me winning, too. Okay, it’s not like winning the lottery, but they were really happy and I was really happy and I love those guys and I wish we were all on the same shift, and, uh… yeah.
So I went home on Cloud 23. I could do no wrong. Life was beautiful. Heck, it still is. It always is, and I rarely forget it, but right now it’s just that little bit extra special.
Tonight I got Paul his supper and then I went down to Tim Horton’s to meet up with the defence lawyers in that ongoing homicide case concerning that night at Buster’s two years ago. It was kind of anti-climatic, as the meeting only lasted fifteen minutes, and I didn’t really have a lot to provide them with except the pictures and video I took, which had nothing really to do with the case. Anyway, Sarah was right… =)
So I got home, and now I’m typing this, but lo! there are new messages in my OKCupid Inbox! And now I’m getting an MSN from… anyway, things are really Swell right now, and I just wanted to share this with you, especially since I’m usually kind of on the down side when I’m writing. So this’ll break it up a bit. Being happy rocks. Take care, everyone!