Working in customer service, one spends a lot of time on the telephone. Never one to consider the phone anything more than a massive inconvenience and a tool of the devils themselves, it isn’t the part of my life that I enjoy the most. Spurning a mobile phone in my “real” life and rarely answering the land line if it rings, I am never the less compelled to cheerily greet whichever weasel happens to have dialled my direct line at any given moment.

I am not a rebel by nature. I conform enough to use the standard corporate greeting every time the sodding thing rings. I deliver it in a mumbling monotone and slur as much as possible on the grounds that the person on the other end of the line doesn’t really want to hear it. And I don’t want them to write my name down as I hate being dragged into things. Especially things which involve me.

Everything we do revolves around a policy number. We’re a big company (a really big company, you wouldn’t believe how mind bogglingly big this company is… etc) with literally millions of products out there. Each one has a unique number as is usual in such cases. With me so far? Because they aren’t. Not all of them. Telephoning customers fall into the following categories –

1. The first type seems surprised that the phone has been answered. “Oh… er… yes… er… hello… my name is Brown…”

2. Secondly you get the ones who are surprised you’ve answered and who then mistake you for a personal friend. “Oh… yes… hello… you wrote to me last week and I’d like to talk to you about it.”

3. Thirdly there are the ones with very limited steam which they quickly exhaust. Starting out with all the pep of a sneeze, they quickly become limp and dopey. “I rang you on the 12th for some valuations and I’m ringing up for the second time to chase them…” / “Right – do you have a policy number?” / “Ah… yes… I’m sure there’s one here somewhere, bear with me for a moment… it was here a moment ago I’m sure… could you hold the line please?”

4. The fourth type of phone pest is the woman (or man) who cannot leave gaps in the conversation without filling them with pointless noise. Not understanding the concept of a duologue, these people are like human car alarms. “Hello ermmmmmmmmmm I’m ringing about the letter you sent on the ermmmmmmmmmmmmm 14th and ermmmmmmmmmmmm I was wondering if you could tell me ermmmmmmmmmmmmm how I might go about getting ermmmmmmmmmmmm a valuation of the policy? Ermmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”

5. The fifth plague is the opposite of point four. The gap leaver. The clipped speech of the man who has no social skills whatsoever and who flat out refuses to speak until you’ve answered his question. Or rather, you’ve answered the question he’d asked but not the question he thinks he’s asked. He speaks only when he chooses to speak and as a result clear conversation is impossible.

6. The sixth kind bombards you with information from the outset and has reached the end of their spiel before you’ve even found yourself a trusty pencil. “Atkinson from Atkinson Hemple Bidmead, Turner, Jones Limited, letter 14th concerning the matter discussed on the 12th with reference to the Inland Revenue reference number P12393859282949056A, wish to discuss the consequences of the actions advised in our conversation last September…” and so on. Meanwhile my pencil has broken and the only paper I can find has crumbs on it.

7. The seventh kind is an errant fax. Confused by the difference between a number which has Tel in front of it and one that has Fax, some slapwits will happily try to fax your phone. Over and over again thanks to the sinful techno-dung that is the automatic redial function.

8. The eighth is the internal call where a person in another office in another part of the country acts as if they know you. “Hi mate – it’s Steve from Norwich, how are you?”

9. The ninth menace is the ironically named Helpdesk. Rarely able to help (but probably using a desk) they pick a name at random and expect them to be able to answer any query. These phone monkeys are either given systems which give them too much information and they get confused or too little and they are unable to do anything beyond play hold music. Interestingly, all helpdesk statistics are to do with time taken to answer calls, calls waiting, and length of calls but absolutely nothing connected with what they do once they answer the wretched calls.

10. The final phone disease is the call that is exactly timed to the moment after you’ve started eating a sandwich. Either way you’re screwed – you either garble with your mouth full or you wait until swallowing and have the joy of sandwich ruined by a droning telephone. A little consideration as to when people ring me would be appreciated.

It probably comes across in this column as if I hate our customers. I don’t – I just hate the ones I have to deal with. Those who do, say and ask for nothing are saints in my book. The rest are spunkjunkies who can sod the bloody hell off and leave me to my silent meditations.