The Fundraiser Manifesto

Yeah, it's me again. Filling the world with friendliness one call at a time.

First, news that may amuse you. I called a woman tonight who supposedly works for Boeing. You know. The airplane folk. What's interesting is that her occupation was listed as "Rock Video Dancer." There are so many things wrong with this that I don't know where to begin. Boeing makes rock videos, hires dancers, and on top of it all, hired this dumb bitch.

You know, some nights get me mean. I go through greetings with my smile frozen like the rictus of a hostile animal.

I hate when people get emotional over the phone at work. I don't just hate it when prospects do it. I hate them. This is my job, and to the people I work for it's an important job. Don't bitch and moan at me like I've done something malicious to you personally. When you get indignant over the phone you aren't doing anything new or relevant. You sound like a spoiled child because you're then ten-thousandth person I've heard make the same damn complaints.

You don't have any money because you have kids in college? If you have enough money to pay for someone else's education, I can say with reasonable certainty that you have more money than I do.

You don't want to be called during dinner? Don't bitch to me about being on the phone when you'd rather be eating dinner in peace. You get to go back to your meal after about 4 minutes. I spend hours talking to assholes like you when damn it all, I'd like to be eating dinner myself.

Quit treating us like we're the enemy just because you're inconvenienced for less than five minutes of your valuable time. I guarantee you that accomodating friendly girl on the phone with you hates her job more than you could ever hate it for her.

The worst part? None of you know. We lie so we can get paid, so that it's safe for you to bitch at us secure in the knowledge we're totally unable to defend ourselves. Telling you what we're really thinking means losing our jobs. Don't tell me my job is a pain in the ass. The fact that you think you can make that judgment is laughable. The fact that you think you know the half of it is insulting. You're on the wrong end of the phoneline to ever know what's really going on.

This has been your Fundraiser Manifesto. Everyone may now return to their regularly scheduled assholery.

The Fundraiser Manifesto

Yeah, it's me again. Filling the world with friendliness one call at a time.

First, news that may amuse you. I called a woman tonight who supposedly works for Boeing. You know. The airplane folk. What's interesting is that her occupation was listed as "Rock Video Dancer." There are so many things wrong with this that I don't know where to begin. Boeing makes rock videos, hires dancers, and on top of it all, hired this dumb bitch.

You know, some nights get me mean. I go through greetings with my smile frozen like the rictus of a hostile animal.

I hate when people get emotional over the phone at work. I don't just hate it when prospects do it. I hate them. This is my job, and to the people I work for it's an important job. Don't bitch and moan at me like I've done something malicious to you personally. When you get indignant over the phone you aren't doing anything new or relevant. You sound like a spoiled child because you're then ten-thousandth person I've heard make the same damn complaints.

You don't have any money because you have kids in college? If you have enough money to pay for someone else's education, I can say with reasonable certainty that you have more money than I do.

You don't want to be called during dinner? Don't bitch to me about being on the phone when you'd rather be eating dinner in peace. You get to go back to your meal after about 4 minutes. I spend hours talking to assholes like you when damn it all, I'd like to be eating dinner myself.

Quit treating us like we're the enemy just because you're inconvenienced for less than five minutes of your valuable time. I guarantee you that accomodating friendly girl on the phone with you hates her job more than you could ever hate it for her.

The worst part? None of you know. We lie so we can get paid, so that it's safe for you to bitch at us secure in the knowledge we're totally unable to defend ourselves. Telling you what we're really thinking means losing our jobs. Don't tell me my job is a pain in the ass. The fact that you think you can make that judgment is laughable. The fact that you think you know the half of it is insulting. You're on the wrong end of the phoneline to ever know what's really going on.

This has been your Fundraiser Manifesto. Everyone may now return to their regularly scheduled assholery.

The Fundraiser Manifesto

Yeah, it's me again. Filling the world with friendliness one call at a time.

First, news that may amuse you. I called a woman tonight who supposedly works for Boeing. You know. The airplane folk. What's interesting is that her occupation was listed as "Rock Video Dancer." There are so many things wrong with this that I don't know where to begin. Boeing makes rock videos, hires dancers, and on top of it all, hired this dumb bitch.

You know, some nights get me mean. I go through greetings with my smile frozen like the rictus of a hostile animal.

I hate when people get emotional over the phone at work. I don't just hate it when prospects do it. I hate them. This is my job, and to the people I work for it's an important job. Don't bitch and moan at me like I've done something malicious to you personally. When you get indignant over the phone you aren't doing anything new or relevant. You sound like a spoiled child because you're then ten-thousandth person I've heard make the same damn complaints.

You don't have any money because you have kids in college? If you have enough money to pay for someone else's education, I can say with reasonable certainty that you have more money than I do.

You don't want to be called during dinner? Don't bitch to me about being on the phone when you'd rather be eating dinner in peace. You get to go back to your meal after about 4 minutes. I spend hours talking to assholes like you when damn it all, I'd like to be eating dinner myself.

Quit treating us like we're the enemy just because you're inconvenienced for less than five minutes of your valuable time. I guarantee you that accomodating friendly girl on the phone with you hates her job more than you could ever hate it for her.

The worst part? None of you know. We lie so we can get paid, so that it's safe for you to bitch at us secure in the knowledge we're totally unable to defend ourselves. Telling you what we're really thinking means losing our jobs. Don't tell me my job is a pain in the ass. The fact that you think you can make that judgment is laughable. The fact that you think you know the half of it is insulting. You're on the wrong end of the phoneline to ever know what's really going on.

This has been your Fundraiser Manifesto. Everyone may now return to their regularly scheduled assholery.