Phone Sales: It’s Easy
“Swivels, get in here. It’s easy.”
I get in there.
“Okay, Swivels. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna pick up that phone and you’re gonna dial these numbers and you’re gonna sell roofs.”
I look up at the guy. “I’m gonna sell roofs?”
“You’re gonna sell roofs,” he says. The guy shuffles some papers. “I took the liberty of cancelling your orientation. We need you on the phone right away.”
I look at my shoes. “And I’m on the phone …”
“Selling roofs.” He shuffles more papers.
The guy takes me to a tiny cubicle. We’re working in a barn.
“All right,” he says, “here’s the computer, here’s the phone, here’s some pen and paper. Write shit down. Write it down!” He threw a pen onto the desk. “You have any questions, you go ahead and save em till the end of the day. Now sell me some roofs!”
Sell some roofs, sell some roofs. I pick up the phone, I hit dial on the computer. Sell some roofs, sell some roofs. Ring ring! Sell some roofs, sell some roofs.
A woman says, “Louisville Memorial Hospital, Emergency Room.”
Crap. I dialed the emergency room?
I don’t have control over who I dial. It’s all a computer program. And I don’t have the ability to skip calls. The computer dials each number that’s fed into the system.
“Sorry — ” I clear my throat. “Wrong number.”
I end the call and move onto the other one.
A man says, “Louisville Memorial Hospital, Memory Care.”
Shit! “My apologies. Wrong number.”
“You bet.”
The boss is standing right behind me. “Swivels, what are you doing?”
“All these numbers are calling different extensions at the same hospital.”
“Are you selling me roofs?” he asks.
“No,” I say, “it’s all the same hospital — ”
“Are you even asking them?”
I shake my head. “No. It just talked to Memory Care.”
The boss crosses his arms. “Don’t you think Memory Care needs a roof on top of it? You gonna let these old bastards with dementia forget their whole lives underneath a leaky roof?”
I straighten up in my cubicle.
“They don’t even know who they are and you’re gonna leave em in the rain? Inside?”
When you put it that way …
“I told you to sell me some roofs. That means I need you to sell me some roofs! TALK TO EVERYONE!” He runs over to another cubicle and stands behind someone else.
There’s a guy behind me. I ask him how long he’s been here.
“My name’s Dave,” he says. “I’ve been here two years.”
“And what’s your script? What do you tell people?”
Dave hikes his pants up. “I ask em if they need a roof.”
“That’s it?” I ask.
“That’s it,” Dave says.
I listen to the next call he takes.
“Hey, this is Dave. You guys need a roof over there?”
That’s what he says.
He does this over and over, over and over. I listen for a while. Then I see the boss glaring at me over the cubicles. I snap my headset back gone and take the next call.
“Louisville Memorial Hospital, Oncology Department.”
“Hey …” I begin. “Do, uh, do you have a leaky roof?”
“Excuse me?” the person saving lives asks me.
“Your roof. Is it leaking?” I ask.
“Sir, this is the Oncology Department. We have tumors literally coming out of the ass. We don’t have time for crank calls.”
“It’s not a crank call!” I protest. “It’s not crank!”
“If you have an issue with crank,” the person saving lives continues, “and you think you’ve had too much, call 911 and come to the Emergency Room.” Click.
That’s fair.
I dial the next one. “Louisville Memorial Hospital, Intensive Care Unit.” And the next one. “Ear, Nose, and Throat Department.” And more. “Pediatrics Department.” “Geriatrics Department.” “Food court.” “Cardiology.” “Gastroenterology.” “General Surgery.” “Gynecology.” “Hematology.” “Anesthesiology.” “Olly olly oxen free!” I dial all the departments. Then I start getting patient room numbers.
It’s exhausting.
The boss comes by my cubicle again. “How’s it going Swivels?”
“Uh, real good. Yeah, real real good.”
“You sold me a roof yet?” he asks.
“No. But I’m pretty sure one of these departments has a leak somewhere.”
“Attaboy Swivels.”
“Yeah this is Dave,” the guy behind me shouts. “How’s your roof doin? Got any leaks?”
I let out a soul-tired sigh and carry on like Sisyphus with the world on his back.
Aaaaaaand we’re still in the hospital. “Louisville Memorial Care. Surgery Theater.” They sound busy.
“Matty Swivels here, just calling to see if you’re happy with your roof.”
The boss sends a trash can zooming between cubicles. “I NEED YOU PEOPLE TO SELL ME A FUCKIN ROOF!”
It’s my first day. I’ve worked for this company for two hours ….
