Customer Service Week

Jumping from one stepping-stone to the next, I've landed in a call center for a national mattress brand. I'm loathe to name it, so we'll call it Select Number. I'm amused to say that the trainer--and a few other middle-management types--named customer service reps as the most important employees in the entire Select Number organization, because... well, customer service is important to the business, and the reps are the direct line between the company and the customer.

That, supposedly, is why it's National Customer Service Week, during which time the company has been providing us catered lunches.

Of course, we're also the lowest-paid. Nonetheless, I'm evidently more important than the Select Number CEO; or, rather, the aggregate of customer service reps are. The class divisions here amuse me to the same extent they frustrate me. ("Power to the workers!")

I guess this just brings me back around to the facts of my life, and of the world we live in: I'm working a shitty job as a stop-gap on the way to getting what I want, just like so many others. The business exploits my time in order to retain revenues and increase shareholder value. I find this all rather fascinating, because a relative of mine congratulated me on the job and described it as "contributing to mankind."

This just gets me thinking: what can I do with my life that will actually contribute to mankind--as opposed to the small number of Select Number shareholders--and afford me some kind of personal income that isn't distributed so disproportionately to my stated value?

Something to meditate on, to stave off the suicidal ideations provoked during my working hours.