The Call Center Personnel

 

I've been composing this article in my mind for quite some time now; it's like a constant companion, lingering in the corner of my thoughts when I wake up in the morning, accompanying me on my commute to work as I observe the world around me from the shuttle, and even occupying my mind when I return home. It feels as though I'm living in a movie centered around this topic, with a mini receptor in my mind always ready to capture every detail.

Interestingly, engaging in such mental endeavors enhances perception selectivity. You begin to view the world around you with heightened awareness through this lens, perceiving and recording sounds, words, and everything that holds meaning through this window of focus. Expressive attitudes draw your attention in direct proportion to their relevance to your subject, and every action you witness is now graded with sensitivity.

In the neighborhood bazaar, Mum Emma, on her shopping trips, transcends being just the familiar, elderly lady from the neighborhood; she becomes an exemplar of marketing communication. Her interaction with the fishmonger reflects a potential customer resisting marketing, while the fishmonger's harsh demeanor exemplifies negative behavior. The fish Mum Emma opts not to buy translates into lost sales reflected in the stall's end-of-day turnover; the boss loses money, the stern clerk receives reprimands, and our mum goes without fish for the week.

From the moment marketing commences—or, to be more precise, from the outset of the marketing process—that stall, situated in the corner of the market, becomes a scene. It encompasses everything from the apprentice weighing fish inside the stall to the experienced clerk, the boss meticulously monitoring cash flow, the idle crowd without buyers lingering around the counter, and Mum Emma eagerly approaching the counter, seeking to add excitement to her mundane world with the fish she plans to cook for dinner.

A game is about to unfold—a brief scene in this misty afternoon where various roles briefly come to life. The scene is fleeting, the roles improvised, yet entirely original. Sometimes hurtful, mostly habitual, mixed with a touch of 'I am the man of this role' attitude.

All these roles will soon fade into oblivion—a simple, ordinary everyday play that we witness countless times. But at this moment, it feels like the most crucial moment of my life. With a sense of urgency, as if I've finally caught what I've been searching for days, I seek the perfect vantage point to observe the stage. The receptor in my mind is active, the scene set, and the game begins. Let's see which hat the rabbit comes out of. Don't we experience dozens of these scenes every day? Who knows on which scenes we, as voice characters with our phones on our heads, will land. If there were a magic screen watched by a guru, with the ability to see both sides, what would they say?

Upon writing the word ‘target,’ it immediately grabs my attention, but in a negative sense. Let's take it further and declare it a taboo word. Naturally, our minds spring into action; why refer to a person as a "target"? Why should there even be a target? Have we begun to categorize people in this way? These thoughts confirm that the word 'target' is indeed disturbing.

Many sellers with first-class marketing skills have disappeared into the labyrinth of their own minds due to this mental fog that cannot be clarified. Yet, the word "target" is entirely apt—it fits perfectly. Just like in our childhood, when we would ask our dad for money to go to the grocery store, our dad would be the target; just like when we would list the things we'd buy with our holiday allowance the night before the holiday, setting targets in our minds. Somehow, our grandparents always topped the list.

It's evident that when you strip words of their emotions, they become bland. But what can we do? Humans are utilitarian beings, and in every situation, the grandkids always flock to the grandpa who offers more money.

We all understand that it's not polite to refer to the individual on the other end of the line as a target, but they will never know that. Shall we return to the story? I wonder what the guru would say if they were watching us. Now, we stand on one side of the stage, the customer on the other; the scene's decoration is left to the audience's imagination.

We, the nameless actors of this voice game, are the most invisible figures in a vast pool; our voices exist only within this pool of vendors. Our stage life lasts only as long as two-minute calls; we come alive on this stage with a "Good day, sir," and we exit with "Have a good day." Yes, we are SELLERS, or let's put it more politely, we are CALL CENTER PERSONNEL. Regardless of how we choose to identify ourselves on this end of the phone, the real scoring comes from the target on the other end of the line. No matter how carefully we select our words on this side, what truly matters is how our target on the other side interprets them.

You've received the call; you start to explain: "Hello, Mr. John, I'll take very little of your time, or however you prefer to say it, I'll take two minutes of your time. The man is in a hurry to catch the metro; two minutes might even save his marriage... :)"

This is what places us at the pinnacle of the SELLERS' world! There is sound, but no image!

As the stall master observes Mum Emma approaching the counter, he instinctively recognizes her desire for fish, inferring her urgency from her eyes and the firm grip on her wallet. Following this, handling the situation becomes easier; the target has been assessed, the profile identified. Like a seasoned seller, the mind adopts the necessary stance to display the required attitude. The goal is to stimulate the existing appetite, to increase the purchase quantity. With an attempt to alleviate the slight sternness in Mum's gaze, the witty opening line is delivered: "Don't look so glum; we've priced this fish reasonably." The smile on her lips, Mum's ensuing joy might prompt her to extend her budget, ultimately increasing her purchase amount. The weighing concludes, money changes hands, and the groundwork for the following weeks is already laid: "Bon appétit, Mum."

However, we are not as fortunate as the seller behind the counter; in our imageless film, discerning the tone of every target we encounter presents a challenge. Whether in a hurry, in a business-like mode, enjoying ourselves, or in any other state, every tone carries a different meaning for us at this end of the line. Contrasting characters—cheerful, flirtatious, fake, or artificial—all have a distinct tone of voice for us.

Despite the lack of visual cues, we create the scene in our minds. We shape the unfamiliar voice that resonates in our headphones, constructing the setting and adding a backdrop from the ambient sounds. In that brief moment, we play the game on the unseen stage, skillfully adapting to the harsh exits of contrary characters and transforming our target into a customer who aligns neatly with our voice. In our unsuspecting calls, we make them feel special, establish intimacy, and grant them the privilege of being part of an exclusive group: the buyers of the product we sell.

Although we cannot predict the judgment of the watching guru, we can be certain they will say: "YOU ARE THE MOST MAGICAL VOICES IN THE WORLD OF SELLERS!"