Monday I had no ambition. To be honest, my ambition at Stupid Pepsi has been waning considerably over the past couple months. I sigh heavily a lot more, I actually read trashy magazines while taking orders, and encourage people to leave me on hold so I don’t have to do work, but look like I’m working. I roll my eyes at my computer–regularly.

Monday, I seriously considered walking out, which I have never done. I wanted to grab my purse, and leave,not clean up after myself at all, and never come back. I don’t know what was made that day some much worse than usual–no one was rude to me, the calls were slow enough that I still made it through OK magazine in about an hour–but nothing made me happy. I managed to convince myself, like I always do, that being more poor would make me sadder than staying at Stupid Pepsi; and I toughed it out by taking extremely long breaks and drinking a lot of crappy cappuccino from the “cafĂ© diem” machine.

Then something amazing happened.

Around 1:15 I was giving myself a pep-talk and blowing on cappuccino number 3 or 4 to cool it off when I realized that someone was standing behind my suite (cubicle). It was Kristy, the trainer, the girl with the most nasal voice I’ve ever heard in my life who is always perky but in the most insincere way possible though I don’t ever doubt that she means it. Weird. Anyway, she asked if a trainee could sit with me. I must have made a horrified face because she quickly assured me that I would merely listen while he made the calls for me.

So I managed to get out of an hour of work and all I had to do was sit next to an overeager guy who smelled like a sweaty cigarette, and listen to him tell me about this book he almost wrote once and about his home theater–so preferable to making calls. I would have listened to this guy tell me about his first time if it meant I wouldn’t have to call any more accounts and say “I see you do well with your regular Pepsi, we also have available the Wild Cherry Pepsi, which is our most popular flavored cola and does very well in your area. Would you like to add on a case of that today to increase your profits?”

The really fascinating thing about the whole experience was the way the kid tried. He was using the stupid notecards we had to make in training class, he mentioned the “penny-profits” formula, he upsold every damn call and seemed genuinely upset when people declined his offers. It was bizarre.

The only reason I upsell is to avoid getting into trouble thus furthering my quest to be left alone. This kid was all about it, and it was awful to have to listen to. He talked forever; he just kept going and people listened politely while I sat behind him and probably looked horrified. I thought no wonder people are rude to me, if I had to listen to that crap every week I’d be a total asshole. The trainee assured me when he sat down that he sucked at this job, so I thought we were kindred spirits–but no more.

Then he started hitting on me, staring at my modest chest and assuring me that “Maybe Jessica Simpson is beautiful, but I need more than just a pretty face”.

It was still preferable to making calls.

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