The Good Part
I am happpppy today and I have heaps of reasons to be that way. Three to be precise.
a) 8.53am- I got a call informing me my cousin had a baby girl last night. Now cousin and I aren’t great friends. We are like chalk and cheese. Even though we live in the same mega city, we don’t meet too often. But kids bring truckloads of joy. I am looking forward to the weekend so I can go and see the tiny bundle of joy. 😀
b) 10.20 am- I receive an email that brought good news for the company and me ( I worked on this particular project so I am taking some of the credit). I am under embargo so can’t disclose details now. But I must mentions, Boss Lady is happy and so am I. 😀
c) 12.00-Most of the logistical issues with the impending trip have been worked out. That’s a big load off my head. Just have a teenie-weenie bit more to do and then I am all set to go. 🙂
So all in all it has been a wonderful morning and I am hoping this sets the tune for the rest of the day (or week…or month…!)
The Not-So-Good Part
You have to grant it to these tele-marketing guys. They are so aggressively persistent that they ensure you end up saying “yes” when what you actually wanted to say was “no”.We receive calls from an assortment of commercial banks on a daily basis. Judging by the number of calls we get and the level of aggression with which we are spoken to, the banking industry has become a highly competitive one. There is an order followed by these tele-marking chappies. They either call before ten in the morning or after two in the afternoon. The phone calls are made in a sequence -in ascending order of the intercom numbers. Besides the great effort put into diligently maintaining order, they also always ensure that the same guys don’t call twice. Of course this is done out of a sense of self preservation. These guys are well aware of how annoying they are. They also know how much they can push their luck. Calling up twice is too dangerous- we will recognise their voice, ask their name and make a complaint; and so they steer clear of making that error.
My call for the day came promptly at 2 pm- just when I had returned from the cafeteria and was peacefully sitting at my desk, browsing through the newspaper. As is the patented style of “tele-markters”, the man didn’t give me a second and immediately began rattling about the benefits of banking with his bank. Within a time span of 45 seconds, I has updated with the choice of saving options available to me as a “valued customer” as well as the fabulous deals and great service I would get if I decided to use their credit cards. The guy was a motor-mouth! All through the 45 seconds I was gaping, waiting for a small break in his non-stop monotonous chatter, so that I could tell him I wasn’t interested. The tiny break never came. I finally had to ask him to keep quiet and listen to me. When I explained to him that no matter how fabulous his bank’s services and schemes were, I wasn’t interest, he got the hint but chose to ignore it. He swiftly moved to a related but slightly diverse topic- the Diamond Credit Card. I wanted to tell him, I neither had the money nor the interest to engage with anything carrying the name ‘diamond’ but would he listen? No. So I let him talk and talk…and talk. I could have hung up on him but I thought that would be too rude and would go against my ethics.. Since he wouldn’t shut up, I switched off. And then after a time lapse (don’t ask me how long the lapse was!) I heard him say “As this is a free card for all employees of you company, you wouldn’t have to pay a paise as service charges. I can send the credit card across within three working days. You only have to keep a photo identity handy. So should I send my man today to verify you photo identity?” I had tons of work to do and was thoroughly fed up with him. I told him since he was so keen on giving me a card that I didn’t want or need and promised me not to charge me a paise, I will take it. But since I don’t have a photo identity handy ( I don’t drive to work and I don’t need my PAN card on a regular basis. Therefore the lack of a photo identity) he will have to send his man another day. He readily agreed. “The man is anyway coming to your office so if you can try arranging for a photo identity it would be very nice. But if you can’t, he will make a second trip. Don’t worry.” Saying that he wished me a good day and hung up.
Was this man nuts? Firstly, I didn’t want the card and secondly, there was no way was I going to put in effort for something I didn’t want!! Arranging for a photo ID was out of the question. If he wanted to give me the card, he could for all I cared, but I wasn’t going to waste office hours making arrangements for him.
His man arrived at four and asked if I had “made arrangements for the ID as I had promised”. I was like “Dude, I don’t know what the tele-marketing guy told you, but I made no promises” Inspite of being upset with the tele-marketing chap, I took pity of the man. He looked tired and sweaty- must have been outdoors all day and the weather was uncomfortably humid and hot. I told him that if he came on the following day I would keep the photo-ID ready. Just as I was telling him this, my colleague popped in to say “Hey! I thought you didn’t want the credit card! Wasn’t that what you had been saying to the person on the phone?” I stepped back and took a moment. She was right- I didn’t want the card. Why was I getting bulldozed into something I didn’t want? Why couldn’t I be firm with people and stick to my guns? I don’t want the card means I don’t want the card. It doesn’t mean I don’t want it, but if you are hell bent on giving it to me, I will take it. With my mind made up, I turned to the man. He was intently watching the after-effect of my colleague’s words on me and anxiously waiting for a response. I apologised for the avoidable trouble; telling him firmly that I truly didn’t want the card, I sent him on his way. He looked a bit confused but didn’t try to argue or persuade. I think he realised that this time my mind was firmly made up and nothing was going to make me alter my decision.