Baker Ross Chapter

Upon finishing University I did as practically all graduates, enlisted the help of recruitment agencies to help my cause, to fight my battles and such; in the end I signed up with about four different agencies and none of them came up with the goods… that is apart from Butlers recruitment located in Tottenham actually whenever I think of Butlers I still have fond memories of the girl who dealt with me; her name was Stephanie… think bootylicious, and curves in all the right places… any who last September (08) I received a call offering me a position in a call centre located just off Blackhorse Rd (Walthamstow) I accepted at once and ran upstairs to tell my mum the good news! This is actually what I wrote within minutes of receiving this most joyous of news in my journal (not diary) The unthinkable has happened… I’ve got a job and I start tomorrow… 09:00 – 17:30, 7P/H (I’ve worked out that’s £270 a week before tax.) Finally a chance, an opportunity to meet new people and earn some cash.
No more sitting around the house all day doing nothing, I’ve got a purpose again and it’s only £10 a week on travel! Being opposite Blackhorse Rd.
Butlers have finally come through for me. No longer is their best asset the decent looking Stephanie bird; no instead they now have a temporary place in my heart! It may be essentially answering calls/general customer service but it’ll be a step up in terms of money and it’ll look decent on the ol’ CV
Also it’d be cool if there were some hot, single women who dig the intricacies and complexities of my personality not to mention my award winning looks!
Today I stick two fingers up at life; at the very world conspiring to keep me down. You’d have thought they’d have learnt I’m not like the others; I’m not just another one. (Thank you Foo Fighters)
The renaissance of Kwams D. Boakye starts today!
The chase of the glory days of yester-year, the pursuit of a hedonistic nirvana… and most importantly today I’ve taken a small step towards someday soon moving out and fulfilling the ultimate act of ladism that is living with Ben and Danny (two of my best mates) in a paradise of drink, drugs and girls not to mention footy as well.
Kwams is back! Bow down and beg for forgiveness!
I started the next day at Baker Ross which I’m sure most of you will know as an Argos type shop which specialises in home deliveries I don’t think they physically have a shop in which you can walk in and purchase whatever you desire.
Upon arriving I was shown to my desk, which wasn’t so much my desk as it was a long plank of mahogany, which about five people shared. I was then given a health and safety guide that I just perused and signed. Eventually my tour guide was introduced to me his name was Adrian (you could tell by the way he carried himself, the way he dressed, the sullen look upon his features - that his dreams went far beyond the walls of working in a call centre but being on the wrong side of thirty it was now time to give up that dream of starting his own software company and instead put on the checked shirt and settle.) and he proceeded to introduce me to just about every person ever to be affiliated with the Baker Ross company; I was shaking hands with all the different directors and bosses whilst I tried desperately to remember the moniker’s of all my new colleagues. (I was at a job once where some guy had learned my name and he was nice enough, friendly and genuine but I forgot his and it got to the point where we’d been working together for a few weeks and I couldn’t suddenly ask him “what’s your name again?” so I just proceeded to call him ‘mate’ for the three or so weeks we worked together. Needless to say I was keen to avoid a repeat.)
The tour incorporated all facets of the company which included the warehouse; upon walking into the warehouse it immediately struck me how many eastern European women in their twenties worked there: imagine if you will a bevy of Blondes and Brunettes; fit, young and vibrant working together in this almost Utopian society (well if you’re a hetro-sexual man.) Was it Orwell that wrote in 1984 that work will set us free? I don’t think even he could’ve predicted those words could’ve taken on a new hedonistic slant.

It was agreed after I’d seen behind the curtain that I could go for lunch and attempt to absorb all that I had so far endured. Whilst I sat in some random what we call ‘chicken shop’ in Walthamstow I pondered how I was going to make this work, how this was a decent opportunity to make some dosh on a regular basis, how travel was literally a pound each way on the ol’ oyster and the bra sizes and availability of the eastern European contingent in the warehouse; this I pondered as I wolfed down my chicken and chips.

After lunch I headed back to the office just thinking ‘don’t mess this up Kwams.’
The time had now come for me to be introduced to the computer system used for dealing with customers. In order to be an effective member of the call centre it’s of vital importance that you can answer a query whilst using the computer system to help you do it.
All through the day I had everyone in my ear saying stuff like ‘you’ll pick it up.’ And ‘you just get used to it.’
Adrian led me to an empty room where he proceeded to speak well what might as well have been Russian about the system they used and how they used it to place orders and deal with customer queries.
The time for talk had now come and gone; Adrian then summoned moi to demonstrate that I could effectively use the system.
I sat down at a computer which was connected to one of those big screens often seen in pubs to screen the footy; Adrian then asked me to perform a variety of different tasks. Needless to say my computer skills aren’t exactly the most riveting and I struggled… on all but a few occasions I needed prompting and directions from Adrian to prevent me getting lost in a world of shipping, delivery and catalogue numbers.
After what seemed like an eternity for both us Adrian decreed that watching someone in action was the best way for me to learn; he again reassured me ‘no-one gets it at first’ and ‘we’ll work on it tomorrow.’
So for the rest of day I watched as the seasoned pros, the veterans of the call centre industry made the art of talking via headset whilst using the daunting computer system, to deal with whatever the customers desired; from ordering products to dealing with returns.
The best way I can describe what these people do is if you can imagine fencing: where the customer comes flying out the blocks slashing wildly and some what amateurishly, whilst the call centre pro’s without breaking stride rebuff all attacks with an arrogance and contempt before launching a counter which proves fatal. Depending on the skill level (complexity of the query) the bout could last longer but the end result was always the same the call centre always won.
It was almost quite extraordinary to watch how simply the workers could utilise what seemed to me the most complex piece of programming known to the civilised world to make their work seem run of the mill.
Five o’ clock finally arrived and upon punching out my time card and saying ‘see ya tomorrow.’
To the entire Baker Ross employee rota I couldn’t help think I’m really going to have to rise to the challenge of the system, don’t run from it, don’t hide from it but call it out western style and turn and draw from ten paces. Call its bluff and then shoot it down and at least if I lost I could go down in a blaze of glorious failure.

What happened next is still I feel unprecedented in terms of unexpected horror. Upon reaching my door I got a call from someone at Butler’s agency; ‘isn’t this sweet I thought to myself they’ve called to see how my first day went.’ WRONG instead a woman on the end of the line told me “unfortunately you can’t go back, they thought you were really well spoken and appropriately dressed but they just felt you didn’t take to the computer system quickly enough.”
So there it was all the talk about ‘don’t worry no-one gets it at first.’ Was nothing more than a scripted rouse that tell all those who they just don’t think are up to the required standard; oh the deceit was in my face all day long and I just didn’t see it. Even now as I write about this a year on I’m filled with a bitterness and melancholy which just isn’t healthy for a job that ultimately meant nothing to me.
Whilst the position wasn’t something I particularly wanted it did serve as a reminder that the warm and comfortable bubble that was university had well and truly burst… it was now time to prepare for the harsh and ruthless realities ahead.