Wrong gramming. Wrong pronounce.
With the mushrooming of call centers in almost every possible rentable space in the metro, there is no doubt that most of the job-seekers nowadays would want to enter such a career. One must be really sure with full conviction that he will “work for a company unlike any other because [he] is not like everybody else.” I personally find this bit of statement reeking with irony and absurdity. Consider the declaration of superiority. It’s a call center by IBM. What sets it off from other call centers, I have no idea, but the fact that it is a call center means that it’s no different from, say, Convergys, e-Telecare, Sykes, or that stupefyingly annoying PLDT. And nowadays, most people seem to equate the word “lucrative” to call center. Judging from the blinding salaries beginners can receive, not to mention the incentives and probably bonuses, one could really be allured into entering the business.
But there was no mention of the sure-fire possibilities that one can turn into a) a zombie, or b) a pretentious twit who professes mediocre accentuation.
Aside from malls and chocolates, the MRT is one of my ultimate sources of happiness whenever I feel like jumping into the ravine of the indefinite destiny. Friday morning I was feeling slightly out of kilter for I was in a bad mood: no caffeine fix. I reached the MRT Taft station and my head began to throb: migraine. Lest I bring on the Armageddon at the most inconvenient time – the 6.30 am rush hour – I firmly grasped the handle bars on top of me, closed my eyes, and tried to doze off. Standing.
The train arrived at the Ayala station upon which a blustering vertically-challenged human being clutching his Nokia 3100 with his left hand onto his left ear boarded the second coach and stood beside me. (I hate employing politically correct grammar, but I would definitely be offending a lot of people if I didn’t.) I assume this clod works for a call center because of the lanyard dangling on his neck down to the navel. He was not the typical kind of person you’d wish to get along with. He conversed to the other party so loudly that his voice reverberated inside the train, and I feared him breaking the resonance frequency of the tempered glass panes. It’s not a good idea to contemplate. By the way, he spoke in full American accent, slang included. And he doesn’t even resemble a foreigner. More likely, he looks like a foreign material from hell.
“I will not tell you how I only got one hour of sleep! In my cubicle!” Upon which he proceeded to talk about it in broadcast intensity. Hopefully it’s not the cubicle that first came into my mind.
“I (sic) eat senwitch and juice a hwile agow. Habachu, what jee-eet?” Note that I wrote it the way he said it.
“Oh my gawd, I was there teww. Why didn’t we see each otha?”
“I’d berah geww to a messege paaahrlor later. I feel so (sic) stress. Wanna come with me?”
“Hey, I have the song you’re looking for. Hwat? You forgot it already? It’s by the Pussy Cut Dahls! Anyway, it’s in my iPahd.”
Message to instructors: please don’t let your trainees pass anything that would not justify your efforts in teaching them the proper way to speak the twang. It’s horrible and altogether embarrassing.
“Haven’t been to the cinemas lately. Ah, I know. Let’s watch Harry Patter!” I restrained myself from laughing, lest I’d drown their conversation with my maniacal giggling and whatnot.
People, if you are so much confident with the way you speak and being a moronic laughing stock is not part of your grand scheme in life, find out first what phonetics means. Use it. It will help you. And for call center agents who still have a hangover from their jobs on the way home, be a responsible horde of communicators. Your accent may sound remarkable, probably enviable, but don’t bother reminding us that you know much better. That you have an edge than the rest of the crowd – do you actually know what you’re doing? If phonetics is too atrocious, it will be difficult for the listening crowd to distinguish what is real from what is phony, and you don’t have any right to be sadistic. You might even sow confusion to Harry Potter fans, and you don’t want to see boulders and pillboxes hurtling toward your general direction.
And please, find out what Freudian slips are. Avoid them