What I Get Paid For
Tech Rule #2 states "Do whatever you can to help the client, unless it requires you to risk your life." You wouldn't think that this is a rule you would ever have to learn, but for some people there is no emergency more paramount to their happiness than being unable to get their e-mail and watch Google videos.
The other night there was quite a storm during my shift. Sheets of rain coming down and splashing on the office walls and roof so hard that it was almost impossible to hear anything. Lightning forked across the sky, immediately followed by peals of thunder that caused my molars to rattle together.
About ten minutes into the storm I receive word from the company's owner that one of our towers that supplies wireless internet has been struck by lightning and is no longer functioning.
When I have a technical support issue myself, I am not a take-action kind of person. I sit back and assume that someone else will call in with the problem and that if I wait long enough, everything will be taken care of. Until I became a member of the tech support industry, it never occurred to me how many people are not like that. When a wireless internet tower goes down, I am immediately inundated with calls from people asking that immortal question, "Is the internet down?" The unintentional humor of that question will never cease to amuse me.
This evening was no different, and within seconds of receiving this information from the owner I was swamped with a hurricane of activity on the phone. "Yes, a tower is down in your area," I recite repeatedly, "And no, I don't know when it's going to be fixed." In their defense, the majority of our clients were very understanding.
One was not.
"What do you mean? The internet's down?"
"Well," I say in what is rapidly becoming a monotone, "Our service is temporarily unavailable in your area due to storm damage."
"Does that mean I can't get my e-mail?"
"Yes, if the internet connection is unavailable it means you can't get your e-mail." I say a silent thank-you that video phones haven't become a reality yet, as my facial expression at this point would almost surely get me the bitching-out of a lifetime.
"So you'll have it back up and going in about the next 20 or 30 minutes then," the man says. It's not a question.
"No sir," I respond, "I can't give you a specific time, but I can guarantee you it won't be in the next half hour. We'll have to wait for the storm to move out, and then the tower will have to be given time to dry off as it will be unsafe for us to climb the metal tower when it's slick."
"Well, that's just not going to work for me," the man says, as though it's the most natural thing in the world, "I have a tournament coming up on Party Poker in 30 minutes and I'll be needing the internet then, so if you wouldn't mind getting out there and fixing it right away . . ."
At this point, I don't understand what the man is suggesting, so I'm staying calm . . . for now.
"As I said," I explain gently, "Even if it was safe for us to climb a wet metal tower - which it isn't - we simply can't go out and do any repairs during a lightning storm."
"Listen," the man says, slightly irritated, "I'm paying you $50 a month for my internet connection. If you can't meet my needs, I'm afraid I'll have to take my business elsewhere."
I stifle a laugh. "You're certainly welcome to do that, sir," I say, then add (rather foolishly) "I don't climb on a giant metal tower in a lightning storm for only $50."
Pokerguy, realizing I'm calling his bluff, predictably becomes furious. "Now see here," the man screams, "You get your fucking ass up on that tower right now and fix my goddamned internet!"
One of the first things I was taught at this business is that as soon as the conversation escalates to the level of verbal abuse or shouted profanities, I'm no longer required to continue the conversation. However, I'm not thinking logically right now. I'm furious. I do not end the conversation.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," I say, trying to keep the heat out of my voice, "I'll meet you at the base of the tower. I'll give you the tools you need and the parts that are probably going to need to be replaced. Then I'll give you a radio, and you can climb up to the top of the tower, and I'll stand at the bottom and talk you through it."
The man is silent for a moment. "I'm not doing that. There's no way I'm risking my life for my internet."
"And you expect me to?" I ask incredulously.
"Well . . . that's what you get paid for."
That's when I went ahead and hung up on him.
The other night there was quite a storm during my shift. Sheets of rain coming down and splashing on the office walls and roof so hard that it was almost impossible to hear anything. Lightning forked across the sky, immediately followed by peals of thunder that caused my molars to rattle together.
About ten minutes into the storm I receive word from the company's owner that one of our towers that supplies wireless internet has been struck by lightning and is no longer functioning.
When I have a technical support issue myself, I am not a take-action kind of person. I sit back and assume that someone else will call in with the problem and that if I wait long enough, everything will be taken care of. Until I became a member of the tech support industry, it never occurred to me how many people are not like that. When a wireless internet tower goes down, I am immediately inundated with calls from people asking that immortal question, "Is the internet down?" The unintentional humor of that question will never cease to amuse me.
This evening was no different, and within seconds of receiving this information from the owner I was swamped with a hurricane of activity on the phone. "Yes, a tower is down in your area," I recite repeatedly, "And no, I don't know when it's going to be fixed." In their defense, the majority of our clients were very understanding.
One was not.
"What do you mean? The internet's down?"
"Well," I say in what is rapidly becoming a monotone, "Our service is temporarily unavailable in your area due to storm damage."
"Does that mean I can't get my e-mail?"
"Yes, if the internet connection is unavailable it means you can't get your e-mail." I say a silent thank-you that video phones haven't become a reality yet, as my facial expression at this point would almost surely get me the bitching-out of a lifetime.
"So you'll have it back up and going in about the next 20 or 30 minutes then," the man says. It's not a question.
"No sir," I respond, "I can't give you a specific time, but I can guarantee you it won't be in the next half hour. We'll have to wait for the storm to move out, and then the tower will have to be given time to dry off as it will be unsafe for us to climb the metal tower when it's slick."
"Well, that's just not going to work for me," the man says, as though it's the most natural thing in the world, "I have a tournament coming up on Party Poker in 30 minutes and I'll be needing the internet then, so if you wouldn't mind getting out there and fixing it right away . . ."
At this point, I don't understand what the man is suggesting, so I'm staying calm . . . for now.
"As I said," I explain gently, "Even if it was safe for us to climb a wet metal tower - which it isn't - we simply can't go out and do any repairs during a lightning storm."
"Listen," the man says, slightly irritated, "I'm paying you $50 a month for my internet connection. If you can't meet my needs, I'm afraid I'll have to take my business elsewhere."
I stifle a laugh. "You're certainly welcome to do that, sir," I say, then add (rather foolishly) "I don't climb on a giant metal tower in a lightning storm for only $50."
Pokerguy, realizing I'm calling his bluff, predictably becomes furious. "Now see here," the man screams, "You get your fucking ass up on that tower right now and fix my goddamned internet!"
One of the first things I was taught at this business is that as soon as the conversation escalates to the level of verbal abuse or shouted profanities, I'm no longer required to continue the conversation. However, I'm not thinking logically right now. I'm furious. I do not end the conversation.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," I say, trying to keep the heat out of my voice, "I'll meet you at the base of the tower. I'll give you the tools you need and the parts that are probably going to need to be replaced. Then I'll give you a radio, and you can climb up to the top of the tower, and I'll stand at the bottom and talk you through it."
The man is silent for a moment. "I'm not doing that. There's no way I'm risking my life for my internet."
"And you expect me to?" I ask incredulously.
"Well . . . that's what you get paid for."
That's when I went ahead and hung up on him.
posted by TechGuy at 9:31 PM
6 Comments:
You know, for someone who is obviously a well-seasoned and professional poker player, he sure doesn't handle himself very well when someone calls his bluff.
So, why didn't you do it? ;-)
"That's what you get paid for."
So, it's the police, firefighters, military, and tech support that risk their lives daily for us civilians.
Oh, I forgot Hot Dog vendors...they risk their lives too.
How dare you hang up on me like that!!!
Actually, I applaud you - I wouldn't have been able to give him the option of fixing it himself with a straight face. Or at least without calling him an asshole directly over the phone. Excellent self control on your part.
The client is always right.
'Aight, I'm just kidding :o)
I guess they don't have a QA booth where you work lol. What? They don't monitor your every single move and listen to every call? I'm reminded of the countless people I speak to every day that dial the wrong number and get me or my double. They just can't understand that their fat little fingers have misdialed OR that that lovely entity known as the Operator gave them the wrong number. Or that they just heard it wrong in their constantly befuddled state. Dealing with the public is so painful at times. Ugh!!!
Post a Comment
<< Home