It is my mother’s birthday, and I haven’t spoken to her since I got back to England six weeks or so ago. I don’t have a landline anymore, and because it is awfully expensive to make or receive international calls on a cell phone, I bought a “phone card” this evening, especially to wish her many happy returns of the day.
What I really purchased, of course, was a phone number and a PIN, sent by email, costing £3.25 (just a fraction over $5). I used my credit card. In less than a quarter of an hour a customer service agent telephoned me to make sure the payment was “authorised”. I knew from the agent’s accent that it was a very long distance call.
I always find Indian call centre employees charming and perfectly polite. But this time I was so stunned to be telephoned from so far away for such a small purchase that I forgot to do what my mother always remembers – to ask what the weather is like. It is my mother’s way of engaging with people who otherwise speak only from a script, hour after hour.
My elder brother and the Lawyer Sis have just the same charming (though much loonier) manner as my mother. They always chat to anyone who serves them, in person or over the phone.
My own instinct is to be taciturn in person, and efficient and businesslike on the phone, to get both sorts of transactions completed as quickly as possible. But I try to overcome that instinct, and remember instead, at the supermarket checkout and when India calls, to follow the example of my mother and my brother and sister.
When I do I am almost always rewarded with courtesy and gratitude – and every now and again I get to chat with someone interesting.
Meanwhile, that Old Woman is galavanting about somewhere, as usual, and not answering her phone. Nevertheless, her fans should hie on over there and wish her a happy birthday.
I will be certain to hie on over there and wish her a Happy Birthday; it is like Old Woman to neglect to mention the fact herself.
I don’t think you’re taciturn at all; you’re just reserved, a trait I admire a great deal (and one I don’t possess). There is much I admire (and envy) about you.
Comment by Jan — February 22, 2010 @ 5:15 pm
Have you tried Skype yet? Sounds like just the ticket for you, especially if you get the people at the other end to download it too. Even if not, it’s still a fraction of the cost of mobile calls.
Like you, I tend to be reserved, unlike my husband who loves drawing out their life stories from total strangers. It’s partly shyness, I think, but a large part is that I can’t bring myself to expend the interest on someone I’ll never meet again. And I know that makes me the lesser person, but so be it.
Comment by Tessa — February 23, 2010 @ 10:36 am
Do you ever have any luck engaging the script reading persons on the other end of the phone….in conversation? Every time I’ve tried they get all flustered because I’m staying from the norm.
I’ll go tell Mom happy birthday and maybe stay awhile and visit.
Comment by Midlife Slices — February 23, 2010 @ 5:57 pm
Like the rest of your family, I talk to anyone and everyone wherever they may be. Yields some interesting conversations.
Comment by Jane Gassner — February 23, 2010 @ 7:26 pm
3 mobile have an Indian call centre where not only are staff no allowed to deviate from the script whatsoever (ie help a customer), they are all apparently on 6 week contracts and have no employment protection whatsoever.
Despite no signal and crap service from 3, I always endeavoured to be polite to their unfortunate call centre staff.
It is not only money saving which causes companies to outsource to India, but the opportunity to blantantly flout all employment laws here.
Comment by The Poet Laura-eate — February 27, 2010 @ 4:18 pm
I have to think you didn’t grow up in the southern U.S., Duch. Not striking up a long, intimate conversation with total strangers is a capital offense where I come from.
Comment by Ruth Pennebaker — March 4, 2010 @ 7:55 am