And Conor's piece for discussion on Monday ...

Agency 1

Since 2003 I have probably been to every recruitment agency in Belfast 8 or 9 times.

Each visit is a few months apart and what annoys me is how I am never remembered, either by computerised records, by face and name or by the types of jobs I apply for. Every visit is the same; “Come in for a chat and we’ll see what we can sort out”.

We chat for 10 minutes and they sound very convincing. They say its unfortunate I haven’t been able to get the job I want but its just most agencies do not provide the kind of employment I am looking for.

“However, getting you work in administration should not be a problem as your CV shows you certainly have enough experience”. So I agree to this. It is not exactly what I am looking for but it’s a start. Then I remember to tell them, “You do realise it is office work and administration I want, not call centre work?”

Friends tell me I can’t afford to be so picky. I tell them I’m not, but I’ve tried working in call centres twice and find them soul destroying. The first time was the worst. As I had not planned my next step after my degree I tried it through lack of options. I began the 3 week training and always looked back.

Training consisted of one week of learning prices, rates, codes and tariffs, which I obviously expected and did wholeheartedly. This was normal, being treated like children was not. Each day before lunchtime the A1 paper and coloured markers
would come out and we would gather round joined up tables to ‘brainstorm’ and see who could come up with the best tariff posters.

Inevitably, it ritually descended into kindergarten style chaos as Bap, Onion, and Scunter (or whatever their names were) would throw things around, brag about taking E’s and drinking Buckfast and spin round in swivel chairs until someone got hurt, or had pen marks etched on their face against their will.

Our ‘teachers’, demonstrated an ineptness which made them seem more like Father Ted and Dougal, than a pair of well trained tutors. They increasingly lost control of the group and could only try to re-assert their power by occasionally going berserk.

It got worse in the third week when we were moved into the main floor to work properly and interact with ‘real’ customers. Everything learned in training went out the window as grumpy men and women from London and the north of England screamed xenophobic bile at me and demanded to know why I had changed their account details and did this and that.

I didn’t know either and by the time I left I really didn’t care. But before I lost the will to care I endured weeks of stress filled days wondering how the hell I ended up there.

In this kind of employment there is nothing as frightening as the sheer panic felt when dealing with the public on a telephone and trying to sort their personal and financial details on a computer, as they angrily demand answers to previous bungles made by other call centre staff.

As I had not the faintest idea what they were complaining about, nor in fact what I was talking about, my brain froze and caused me to put them on hold longer than they had got to speak to me.

As time wore on the number of people in my team dwindled, like troop casualties in a war, and it felt like the customers with serious grievances were simply ‘collateral damage’, caused by our mistakes.

I left soon after, convinced I had left a trial of destruction all over the UK.

Maybe I was over-reacting but I knew from personal experience what it is like to be a victim of an organisations’ mistakes and I was sure I had inflicted this on many others. I returned to university to do a masters degree.

This was the familiar territory I wanted to be in. I never wanted to work in an over competitive environment which stresses reaching unrealistic team targets over everything else. I never wanted to feign enthusiasm on a telephone and pretend to demonstrate skills I clearly did not have.

I certainly did not want to cold-call people and ask them if they were interested in a new offer only to be told by a teary widow her husband had been dead for two months and if I ever rang again she would call the police.

So I have the utmost respect for people who have the necessary skills to deal with customer enquiries, who can reach sales targets with ease and enjoyment, and who can deal with any problems that arise. I can’t do this, though I don’t think the people who are not suited to working in call centres are unemployable, just better suited to other careers.

This brings me back to recruitment agencies, as the two are inextricably linked. If ever, now is the time for agencies to decommission their violently nerve-shattering call centre wings and give the job-seeking people a choice. My second time at a call centre happened because I was duped into the post by an unscrupulous agent who swore to me it was an admin post.

I left in disgust after just one week when the agent rang my mother to tell her I had not shown at work that day, despite me calling in sick and giving them my mobile number. Did she expect her to scold me and order me ‘back to school’ the next morning? I am 25.

I often wonder how many people are registered with recruitment agencies and how it compares with the actual number of jobs they can provide. On more than one occasion I have effectively been ‘sold’ the job and told all I had to do was come in the next morning to finalise things.

When I arrive the person who called me is always busy and I have to complete 30 minutes worth of registration forms, then simply told they will be in contact if something comes up. Cynically I tell myself the job probably never existed and they are only trying to enhance their records for some reason, but I’ll never know.
On the other hand, job offers for call centres are seemingly endless, though it is something I’ll hopefully never have to experience again.