Failure to Launch (Part 3)

“Phone Company Delays Retail Sales of A-phone 4”

Due to underestimating the success of what quickly became the most productive pre-order day in Company history...I stop reading.  We are not launching on the 25th.  The Computer store will be launching on the 25th.  They would start selling online on the 25th.  The Biggest Deal mega-chain and Frequency Hut will be selling the A-phone 4 on the 25th.  We, THE PHONE COMPANY, will begin offering the A-phone 4 to customers online and at our retail locations beginning on the 29th of the month--giving everyone 96 hours to buy their’s from anyone but us.

A thousand times good grief!

I've grown somewhat accustomed to the Company letting me down and I have grown beyond surprise.  But this one hurts.  The Company, with its network-improvements-are-in-the-works-and-we’re-aware-of-the-problem-but-it’s-getting-better schtick has been going on for three years. This time, I am the liar.  This time, my integrity suffers.  I feel violated.  It was a shot to the gut.

I go outside to find Bombay still smoking. “What are we going to do about the hundreds of customers we told to show up first thing on the 25th? We’ve been saying this for over a week but now the story changes two days out?”

He takes a puff as he tries calming me down while making a swooping nod with his neck, preparing to regurgitate.  Exhaling smoke, “customer will read news.  They will know.”

I don’t know which is the more alarming subtext of that statement--that he honestly believes that everyone we told would “hear the news” or that he believes it because he admits that the Company failed on such a colossal level that it actually will be universal news.  

Oh yeah, the word is out about how big a fuck-up this is.  Don’t worry about trying to find the people you misinformed.

“I’m going home,” I informed him. “I feel sick.”

“I can’t stop you if you want to go home, but you will suffer the penalty as outlined in the attendance policy.”

“Okay, I’m going home about 30 minutes early, so that should be about a 1/4 of a point, right?”

“Full point.”

“Why’s that?”

“You are scheduled for another 4 hours.  Until the closing.”

“Oh, I just figured that since this week’s schedule wasn’t posted a week in advance, we were supposed to go by last week’s schedule.”

“Oh really!?” he affects a venomous fake laughter and stomps out his cigarette. “We are gonna talk about the Article 12 now?”

“Well, that is what it says.”

“You want to go, go.”

“How many points am I getting?”

“Schedule was out 48 hours in advance.  You get a full point.”

“The schedule can be changed 48 hours in advance.  It can’t be changed if it’s NEVER OUT.  It needs to be out a week in advance first.  Then you can change it based on unforeseen needs of the business.  And from the looks of it, we won’t be needing anyone for business anytime soon!”

We’re both mad.

“Why would I put out the schedule if I know it is going to change? Make sense? It’s stupid to put out a schedule you know is going to change.”

“That doesn’t change the way the rules are written.  You still need to furnish us with a schedule that gives us a full week’s notice.  After that, if you need to change it based on unforeseen business needs, you can do so.”

He tried this. “You knew A-phone launch was coming, you should know that there would be overtime scheduled.”

“Exactly.” I responded, feeling the anger in my neck rising to my face.  I spell it out for him.  “You can change a schedule--THAT IS POSTED--48 hours in advance due to ‘unforeseen business needs’.  A launch that we ‘knew was coming’ over a month ago is not exactly ‘unforeseen.’

“You want to go, go!”

Gone.

I stick to my guns and follow the previous week’s schedule which, fortuitously, has me off on Saturday.  Management is well aware of what I am doing.  I’m following the rules (granted, as they benefit me)...and clearly painting a larger target on my back.

Failure to Launch (Part 2)

Because of the pending launch day, we are informed that a new schedule will be put out, forcing allowing us to work the 14 hours from 8am to 10pm.  Per union rules, the schedule is supposed to be put out one week in advance, but can be altered as soon as 48 hours in advance to accommodate unforeseen occurrences.  If a schedule is not posted one week in advance, we are to follow the previous week’s posted schedule.  4 days prior to the new week, Cock Bombay still doesn’t have the schedule ready. I haven’t decided which I am going to do yet, given that it is completely within my rights to follow the previous week’s non-grueling overtime schedule, but I figure I’ll probably come in and work the extra hours--it’s not often we get the option.  The schedule finally comes out on the 17th for the week starting on the 20th.  Clearly not the week’s notice we should have been given.

Beyond that, and most absurd, we are all scheduled to work open to close with nothing to do, up until launch on the 25th.  

Brooklyn pulls Cock Bombay aside.

“Hey, Mr. Bombay, I noticed that this schedule has us working all-day, every-day even before the actually launch.”

“Yep, that’s right.”  He knows when he’s being challenged. “I gave you 48 hours notice and staffing is based on needs of the business.”

“But, sir.”  Brooklyn closes his eyes in mini-meditation and slowly motions a palm-down, calm-down with his hands.  The gesture is no doubt for his own good.  “We won’t even have any customers coming in until the 25th.” 

“We are going by the needs of the business.”

“There won’t be any business needs until we get that phone in stock.”  He momentarily forgets before adding, “sir.”

“The schedule is out, the whole market is doing it.  You should be thankful!  Can you imagine what other company offers overtime in a recession?”

That last line I had already overheard on the conference call earlier that day.  Who knows who started it, but it came from the Bobble Head when I heard it uttered through the speaker phone that morning.  Again, a reference to how utterly ungrateful we must be as sales reps.  Also, a defense of a wasteful allocation of resources by The Company.

I work my 14 hours on Monday the 21st, at least 12 of which are spent on my feet.  I am exhausted. I was used to 7.5 hours on my feet, the extra few make a noticeable difference.  My back hurts, my feet hurt.  I am now painfully aware that I  haven’t purchased new work/dress shoes in over three years.  

Most of us are pretty excited about the overtime, don’t get me wrong.  The Company usually makes such a stink over such things.  Tightening the purse strings each year has eventually come down to auditing our time cards.  Two things would stand out glaringly: Unapproved overtime and Untaken Meal Breaks.

Untaken Meal Breaks, or UMBs, are “huge penalties” that the Company is forced to pay its employees if it neglects to give them a lunch break for every five(5) hours worked.  If you work 5 hours without clocking out for lunch, you will see an extra hour of paid time show up on your time card.  Some people were probably taking advantage of this anyway, so the loophole had to be closed.  It was so important that no one show up on that report that I had begun doing my employer the favor of clocking out for lunch before hour 5, continuing with my customer until the transaction was complete, and then clocking back in before actually eating my lunch.  It was easier to work for 6 hours straight than it was to explain why to a guy like Cock Bombay.  

So we are working overtime.  We are diligent in taking two meal breaks throughout the day and we are ready to turn around and come back first thing the next morning.  The whole week is Phone Company week.  No excuses, no exceptions.  

Tuesday morning is more of then same.  No traffic coming to the store but for the random calls and walk-ins begging us to put the phones on hold for them.  Otherwise, we are cleaning the shelves, vacuuming the floors, getting ready for the launch day that usually brings the Executives with it.  

Being the flagship store, you have to prepare for the visits of those who preside over you and the other hundreds of stores in the West.  They might come, they might not.  If you’re Cock Bombay, you must assume they will and encourage your employees to “double make sure to team-tag on all the metrics.”  I'm still not sure what that means.

We “double make sure” that all the accessories are stocked(ready to gouge the first customer who grabs them) and that every acrylic display is dusted.  Friday is just around the corner and we are looking pretty well-stocked on everything except the phones.  Of course, those never show up more than a day in advance so this is no surprise.  They will arrive in two days and be under 24-hour surveillance over night.  

It’s strange how you find news sometimes.  I notice first that Cock Bombay is speaking nervously into his cell phone while chain-smoking out front.  We are all inside redoubling our make-sures and at the same moment Miguel points to a website and suddenly we all go to the same Tech Page blog and see it right there at the top, in embarrassingly large font, that we would not be getting the phones by the 25th:

“Phone Company Delays Retail Sales of A-phone 4”

Failure to Launch (Part 1)

It’s ten days before the release of the fourth A-phone and we are getting ready to take pre-orders.  The Company has learned from its first few launches and wants to make sure we offer this new phone through as many channels as possible.  Pre-orders are for the planners.  We are happy to ensure customers that if they order their phones on the 15th of the month they can expect their phones on the 25th of the month, the same day we are going to launch the phone in stores.  In fact, this is the widest release of any A-phone and all stores are prepared to launch on the 25th.  The Computer Store, the Biggest Deal chain and even the Frequency Hut are all going to carry the A-phone now.  With pre-orders, we are planning on shipping phones directly to the consumer, thereby alleviating the in-store traffic and diversifying our activation power.  Double the business, same customer service.  So far this all makes sense.

The 15th of the month comes around and it’s like launch day has been every other year.  There is a line outside the door prior to business hours and customers are excited to get in and pay whatever the cost for the phone they will curse for the following year..  We are amply staffed, wearing special t-shirts and ready to sell.  We open the doors and let the smiling (for once!) people run through a dozen at a time. We start entering the information and it doesn’t take long until, like each of the three preceding A-phone launch days, the computers begin to freeze.  Our point of sales system (the clunky DOPUS) takes the largest electronic shit on the heads of everyone working and everyone who has been patiently waiting to get in.  At 9:10am PST we know this is going to be a very long day.

Compounding with the East Coast traffic, who got a three hour head start, once the Pacific time zone joins the party, the computers are ready to break it up.  I point on the screen, click the mouse and wait 5-10 minutes for the next screen to do anything. The computers crawl along, allowing each of us maybe 3 or 4 pre-orders(usually a 10 minute transaction now taking 1 hour each) before the works shut down completely at 12:30pm.  At 4:30pm, it is announced that no more pre-orders will be taken.  The mob, following a burst of threats and some reasonable name-calling, eventually disperses.  I don’t know on what grounds, but we are even assured a lawsuit is coming.

Fail.  Again.  Four years in a row.

Capacity has been reached and once the dust finally settles, The Company has pre-ordered a record number of network-sucking, call-dropping smart phones.  The suckers, it seems, are of endless supply.  This time we are counted among them.  Brooklyn was half-right; he and I wouldn’t, but The Company would surely sell a shitload.

Let down by the Company we trusted to eventually get it right, we begin hosting the lonely receiving line of apologies.  What do we say?  

“Sorry, but you can come in on the 25th and still get the phone on the same day that everyone else can get it.”  

“No, unfortunately we can’t hold one for you, even though you’ve been waiting here for 2 hours already.”

“Yes, you’ll probably want to line-up early, again, on the 25th.”

“I’m sure we’ll get a bunch.  The Company probably banked on reserving less than half for pre-order and plenty more for the actual launch day.”  

“Because of all the pre-orders, we probably won’t even be that busy on launch day.”

“Just in case, get here right around opening, at 6am, on the 25th and you’ll get your new phone right away--possibly before those who did pre-order.”

No one is pleased.  The answer is not the one they wanted.  It further reinforces the existing Mutual Pre-Dissatisfaction and still means another trip to the dreaded Phone Store.  It still means there are no guarantees.  Instead of a solid Company response, we are handing out ‘almost positive’s and ‘they’d be crazy not to’s, asking the customer to be satisfied with that result.  I feel awful, but what can we do?  We all just got screwed by the guys who can’t lose.

Death by Jogbra

I read the next name from the list.

“Maxine.”

“Yes, I need you to call customer service for me.”

“Okay, you can use our phone right here at the end of the desk.”

“No, you talk to them.”

“Ohh-kay.  What is it that you need help with today, Maxine?”

“I don’t know, it should be in the notes.”

Sensing the frustration, and empathizing, I grab the receiver and dial the same 800 number that everyone has to dial.  There is no express route.  We spin the same Customer Service roulette wheel of ignorance when we have to call in.  I’m now at the point where I can discern inside of two sentences how new the employee on the other end is. 

"Thank you for calling the Phone Company, home of Digital Dazzle and Family Finder and..um...how can I make your day a little b..."

I hang up mid sentence so it appears we’ve been cut off and take another look at the phone.

I am, somewhat miraculously, able to squeeze some information out of dear Maxine.  Enough, anyway, to discover that her blackberry keyboard has stopped functioning correctly and that she has come in to the store so that we could help her troubleshoot the phone.  More accurately, she needs help taking off the back of the phone.  How did you DO that??? Without removing the back and checking the liquid indicator and serial number, customer service can not go through the appropriate steps required in order to send her a replacement.  

It’s been over five years since I’ve been able to replace a phone in store.  Five years ago, The Company decided that too much was being wasted in the flippant in-store exchange of phones.  An exchange-by-mail program was established to “more precisely diagnose any problems and determine the appropriate course of action.”  It was then that I began assuring my clientele that they could, in fact, live without their phone for the 2-3 days it would take them to receive their replacement.  They continue to assure me I am wrong.

Maxine is pressing the Green call key on her Blackberry and the screen says “JKJKJKJKJK”.  She is pressing the Red button and the screen says “NMNMNMNM”.  She is not pleased with this recent development.  She is also not pleased with my suggestion that her phone is “Just Kidding, Just Kidding, Just Kidding” but then, “Never Mind, Never Mind, Never Mind.”

Displeased doesn’t even begin to describe what Maxine is when I ask if her blackberry has been anywhere near any type of moisture.  

“Of course not! That’s ridiculous!”

Of course it is.  Totally ridiculous.  What am I thinking?

I pull off the back, remove the battery, check the liquid indicator for signs of change and see none.  I wasn’t really expecting too.  By the time liquid has made far enough to turn the white sticker to pick or red, the phone is usually shot.  Maxine's phone has only a keypad problem.  Which means Maxine probably tucks her phone into her Jogbra while working out and has therefore, inadvertently attempts to kill her phone by osmosis.

Since there is no evidence of liquid damage, she technically could get away with sending the phone in for a warranty exchange.  I could send her away to do it herself, but I see Cock Bombay escaping for oxygen and I pick up the receiver again.  I get through the prompts and I get to a person who sounds somewhat rational and competent.  Here we go:

“Yes, my name is Jason and I’m calling from Retail Sales Location T102.  I have a Maxine Lubitsch here with a defective blackberry.”

“Okay, Jason, I’m very sorry to hear about the trouble you and the customer are having today.  Can I get your sales ID?”

“LP187.”

“And your password.”

“Goat Milk.”

“Thank you very much Jason, please bear with me while I pull up that number in our system.  What seems to be the problem today?”

I begin, knowing what must be done to get through to someone who is following the customer-service-choose-your-own-adventure script.  “Not too much, it looks like it’s just a faulty keypad.  I’ve pulled the battery out, tried a different battery, tried my battery, tried putting my sim card in the phone, tried the application loader, tried backing up the phone, tried updating the software, tried removing the software, tried reloading the software, tried it while it was plugged into the computer, tried it while it wasn’t, tried it downstairs, down the street, outside and up the block.  Still, after all that and an hour of trying, the keypad still won’t work. It looks like we just need a new one sent out.”

I wink at Maxine.

“Okay, Jason, it certainly sounds like you’ve tried quite a bit.  Please bear with me as we do need to go through some of those trouble shooting steps on our own.”

Everything I say to this representative I have painfully learned to say from previous phone calls.  My own fellow Phone Company Coworkers on the phone have been given strict directives:  No one gets a new phone sent to them until the old one has practically been rebuilt.  We will waste man hours, but not equipment.  We will err on the side of denying claims first like a corrupt health insurance provider. 

After putting me on a brief four minute hold to consult with his computer, this one keeps going, sticking to his guns:

“Okay, so I need for Maxine to download the latest software on her computer before giving us a call back, okay?”

  Wow, this one is tough.  Maybe I sounded a little too slick in reciting my lines. He might be on to me.  But I’m not letting him off that easy. I improvise.

“She doesn’t have a computer,” I lie, shrugging at Maxine.  She’s now on my side.

“Does she have any friends with computers?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Nobody she knows has a computer?”

“Well, I didn’t want it to get to this point but since you seem to be forcing the issue, I feel obligated to tell you that Maxine doesn’t really have any friends.”

Silence on the line.  Then, stumbling, “um, well is there any sort of public computer...”

“C’mon, man.  You know as well as I do that public computers don’t let you download software from the internet.”

“She HAS to be able to get it somehow!” He insists.

“Why? It’s a physical problem with the keypad!  There’s nothing any amount of software updates will possibly fix.  We already tried reloading the entire phone!” 

Not true.

Finally, and snidely, “you know we check them when they come in to make sure they have the latest software.”  

Bullshit.

“Yes, I know.  But you can’t do that until after you’ve sent out the replacement.  So let’s get on to that part now.”

All told, about 40 minutes of work.  Two hourly employees costing the company double labor because one has been given the directive to, more or less, give the other a hard time.  The other, God help him, is earnestly trying to help the customer who, at worst, may have accidentally gotten a little boob sweat on her phone.

Enter Janice (Part 2)

Sometimes I am helping my own customer when Janice tugs on my sleeve, apologetic about disturbing me, and asks for help.  After I finish with my transaction, I assist Janice with hers and often times am asked by the client if I can take over.  

I witness Janice take over two hours to upgrade a cell phone--existing customer, just new equipment.  I notice that every time she walks away from the counter to ask a question to a coworker, the customer throws his hands up in the air in frustration.  I see normally patient people grow crazy with agitation before my eyes.  I am helpless to assist because I have numbers to hit.  Janice has 6 months before she will be penalized for missing quota.  I will get written up.  Especially now that the ‘veteran culture’ is being changed, I have to watch my ass.  I can no longer help the helpless and it doesn't feel right.  I have to make what money there is and help as many customers who are waiting in line.

I take my lunch break around the same time Janice is taking her first 15 min break(of many).  In the hallway-cum-breakroom in the back, there is a graphed white board that we are to fill with dry-erase marked numbers throughout the day.  I post mine and pop my lunch in the microwave.  Because we stand for 7 1/2 hours per day on the sales floor, sometimes these breaks are necessary.  I usually hate taking them while customers are waiting, so this one has been a long time coming.  I grab my food and turn to the table that lines the already narrow hallway.  No vacancy.  There is Janice, no doubt pooped from her one transaction of the day and two other coworkers sitting in chairs.  This means I can’t even squeeze between them and the whiteboard to get anywhere.  I grab an empty cardboard box that lies near the backdoor and flip it over.  I sink in, half squatting to avoid its collapse.  It's more of a workout than a break.  I plop onto the floor.  I began digging into the leftover eggplant parmesan when I almost spit it out from shock.

“Whew, Lordy, what a day!” Janice started at 11am and still had 6 more hours to go but she needs a rest.  “I don’t know how you guys do it.”

I eat my food quietly on the floor, not wanting to say anything, not wanting to compare days.  The other two coworkers, Brooklyn and Miguel, are commiserating about their customers as well.  Brooklyn has a guy I could hear from across the room who had been demanding a new phone.  He dives right into the story.

“So this fuckin' guy comes in with a 6 month old Nokia 3230 and he says that he needs a new battery.  I tell him...I advise him...that we are out of ‘em.  He says, ‘well, find me one!’”  Brooklyn is logical, he is helpful, he diffuses these bombs like no one else.  

“So I get on the phone and I call the guys over on Melrose and they have it for sale.  The guy asks me how much and I say it’s 25 bucks for the battery.  The guy says he can’t believe we don’t have it here.  I try and make him feel better by telling him if we did have it, it would cost him $50 at our store.  The guy gets into me about how we’re always sticking it to 'im.  Keep in mind," he throws out some DeNiro hands, "I’ve already gone above and beyond by calling these third party guys to locate a battery because I know no other Company store has 'em either.  I tell him I’m sorry about that, but the good news is that they are holding a battery for him only a mile away.  He says, get this, he says, ‘I want you to give me a new phone.’” 
Brooklyn grows increasingly animated with the retelling of the story.  “I stop this guy and say, ‘Sir, I’m sorry we don’t have the battery that you came in here to purchase, but I found one for even cheaper that you can get right up the street.  The warranty center can mail you the phone if you want to go that route, but if you want the battery today, I would strongly urge you to go over to Melrose and pick it up.’  This guy says he wants me to either have the battery transferred to our store or for me to give him a new phone.  Obviously we can’t do either.”  Brooklyn stands up as I eye his vacated seat, then he finishes, “this guy stops himself and just decides he wants a new phone now.  He gets loud at me and yells ‘Listen, you guys sold me a phone 6 months ago and the battery went bad.  If you don’t have the battery for the old phone, I want you to give me a new phone for free.  And, since I know you can’t do anything, I would like to talk to a manager!!’”  

He sits right back down.

“So that’s what he’s doing now.”

I shake my head and keep eating when I hear a strange noise.  Hauntingly operatic sounds are coming from somewhere in the hallway.  I check the backdoor, thinking it might be the wind in the alley.  I undo the security latches and bolts and open the door and throw it open.  Nothing.  No wind to be found, I throw the cardboard boxes out and come back inside shaking my head.

“What’s up?”  Brooklyn throws his head up at me.

“Nothing, I keep hearing this weird sound.”

Brooklyn’s eyes get big and his face turns read as if I had just ruined a secret.  Miguel starts giggling.  Brooklyn laughs and has to turn around.  The noise is coming from Janice.  Janice, thankfully oblivious to all goings on, continues quietly singing hymns to herself in a terribly off-pitch operatic soprano.  Nice lady, awful voice.  I have to interrupt.  

“Janice,” I start, drawing attention to the whiteboard, “did you update your numbers?”

“Oh no, I should do that.”

Yes, you should....quietly.

She stands up to the board and grabs a red Dry-Erase marker.

“Let’s see....what does ‘ACT’ stand for?”

“Mmm...activation.”

“Okay, I think I got one of those.” She moves to the next line.  “What’s an “UP?”

“That’s an upgrade.  That’s when you extend an existing customer’s contract in exchange for a discount on the phone.”

“Oh no.  That’s what I did.”  She erases her mark from the “ACT” column and moves it to “UP” before continuing.

“Is ‘FPO’ when I sell something?”

“FPO stands for Features Per Opportunity.  Did you sell that guy a data package or text messaging plan?”

“No.  Is ‘APO’ when I sell something?” 

“Yes, if that something is an accessory.”

“Oh no.  None of those.”

I attempt to ignore the fact that these are terms that actually should be covered in training.  I somehow forgive that she doesn't know this.  I look up at my own line of pathetic numbers on the board.  Shit.  I cut lunch early and head back out to the sales floor.

Enter Janice (Part 1)

Janice is nice.  Janice is very sweet.  Janice might be the worst coworker I’ve ever had to work with.  With a stroke of irrationality and flexed muscle, The Bobble Head has decided to go over Cock Bombay’s head and make his own hire.  The Bobble Head took a look at the applicant pool and picked the sweetest smile with the gentlest voice.  Incorrectly guessing about what the customer is looking for, the Head has gone back on his word.  Instead of his promise that we should be able to assuage every concern by talking about 'the network', he now champions a new mantra-- “just be nice.”  I don't entirely disagree.  Kindness, understanding and compassion go a long way in most service industries. It's hard to argue with nice.  However, in this industry of temperamental invisible technology, a grasp on how it works(or rather why it doesn’t) goes a pretty long way too.

The Bobble Head doesn’t get it, because he doesn’t have it inside him, but honesty is the only policy the customer will fully agree with.  They have to.  Truth without bias is not a perception--it’s truth.  It definitely doesn't make The Company look better when I agree with the customer.  When I agree that a $100 monthly phone bill is outrageous for terrible service, I'm doing The Company no favors.  And yet, that’s why my own satisfaction rating is in the 97% range by the end of every year.  If I were to, as Cock Bombay would have me, explain to the customer that the survey they are taking is entirely about me, my scores would suffer.  The reputation of this company would drag mine down. 

Instead, I now explain honestly and with competence, that I’m sorry--that I agree.  I admit with just as much confidence that it might get better and usher in a quick warning that it probably will not.  No one is thrilled by these tempered expectations, but most, having already endured a tumultuous relationship of lies, are relieved to hear the truth.  "Have a party," I say.  "Invite a bunch of friends over to your house and see whose cell phone works.  Then go with that company.  We may not be your best option."
This shocking admission has lost some business.  More often, though, it has incited the response, "the service doesn't work in my house, but I'd rather buy all my phones from you."

Janice has mentioned that she is old enough to have a granddaughter.  I am polite enough not to know exactly what that means.  I do know that her daughter is dating the current Tour Manager of a ’70’s disco band and I suspect, at the risk of being called ageist, this makes Janice too old for our industry.  Janice finishes her two weeks of training and walks in the door with perfect hair, bright red lipstick around her smooth chocolate skin and her infectious smile.  She is a calming kind of person.  Your first look at Janice and you feel your blood pressure drop.  Your third shift with her will make you scream.

I don’t want to belabor the point because I feel guilty speaking ill of someone so sweet.  I ask that you, instead, focus on the men who put Janice in her current position.  See this as additional proof that the company placing her in our store, under the impression that anyone can follow the script and succeed, is beyond misguided.  The Company is out of touch and they put Janice out of her league.

Her third week on the job, Janice is still struggling with where the contacts are stored in the phone.  She has already deleted complete address books of three customers before she comes to me for help.  I explain to her that there are two storage locations for contacts in each phone.  
"There is a hard drive in the phone and a smart chip.  Most phones store the contact automatically to the phone memory because it is a more robust directory.  You can store physical addresses, birthdays, multiple numbers and e-mail addresses.  The smart chip can only hold about 250 contacts with single numbers per name."
I further encourage her that she should explain this to her customers because most of them think the contacts are on the sim card when, in fact, they are on the phone.  I explain nicely, “If you ask the customer where their contacts are stored, they are usually wrong because they just don’t know.”
She nods and smiles, understandingly before batting her eyes and gently grabbing my shoulder.

“What’s a hard drive?”

Not remotely...but sometimes, remotely.

I'm walking the floor of the Mandalay Bay Casino in Las Vegas when my phone rings.  I recognize the number and pick up within two vibrations.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Jason!  It's Cory.  I tried e-mailing you first but I didn't get a response."
"Oh yeah? I didn't get the e-mail.  When did you send it?"
"Five minutes ago."
"Ahhh...yeah, I'm not working right now and I don't get work e-mail on my phone.  What's up?"
"Something wrong with Jay's phone.  The internet doesn't work. I tried the usual tricks"
"Did he just change phones recently?" I troubleshoot.
"Usually that would be the case, but I actually think he's had the same one for a few weeks now."
"Is he traveling internationally?" I continue.
"He was.  He got back and I called in to take him off the international plan and put him on the regular plan."
"Okay, give me five minutes and I'll call you back."

I call into the store where I can get some actual help.
A greeter answers the phone and I let her know that it's me right away.  This relieves her of the obligation she feels to let me know about the gift cards, family finder feature and internet solutions we are offering for either your personal line or small business.  I cut to the chase.
"Who there has access to Tellect?  Is Brooklyn in?"  I know he isn't, it's Sunday.
"No..." I can hear her voice search around the store as she tries to remember the names of her new coworkers.
"Okay, fine.  Who's managing."
"Umm...it's ummm...Cock Bombay?"
"Uggh.  Okay, put him on."

I'm not asking for a favor for me.  I'm asking for a favor for a customer who already tried customer service and didn't get the appropriate action.  But Cock Bombay would love to do me a favor if it meant he could remind me of it down the line.

"Brother!!"  I can hear his smile beaming above the clanging slot machines around me.  "What's the honor to do me this time???"
"Hey, I need some help on the backend in Tellect for a customer.  Here's the number..."
"Hey, hey....you're not working today, brother!" 

Cock Bombay knows that when I'm not working, I'm not working.  There are very few calls I take from my house, let alone a casino floor.  When he calls me on the weekend to ask me to come in, my Company-paid phone line is as off-the-clock as I am.  However, when Jay-Z's assistant calls with a problem, I answer like it's a job offer.  And no, this is not because I view it as a means to accelerate my own rap career.  It's because Cory has always been cool to me.  I wouldn't answer the phone if he weren't.  So it's not a double standard.  It's just a standard.

"Can you check to see if, under the 'features' tab of the account, there's a SOC code that reads DATX?"
"Yes, brother, it's there."
"Can you remove it, please?"
"I can move it.  Do you have last four of the social?"
"It's not a social, it's a tax ID and it's 8068."
"Very good.  Okaaaaaayyyy."  I hear him labor to remember how to use the old system.  "All done."
"And hit 'save' and then 'refresh' for me, please."  Tellect is a fickle system.
"Okaaaaaaayyyy.  All set.  Anything else?  Who's the Shawn Carter Enterprise?"
"It's nothing.  Thanks."

I hang up and call Cory back, one or two minutes after I told him I would.
"He'll need to restart the phone and it should start working,"  I inform him.
"Dude," he responds with a laugh, "why was I on the phone with International Customer Care for an hour earlier??"
"Because you're lonely and have no better use for your time?"
"Haha....right.  You're the best, bro.  Next time you're in New York during a show, let me know."
"How 'bout I call you when Jay's in LA."
"Fair enough."