I had just graduated from my high school and was excited to go to the college of my dreams in three months. So, it was time to find a summer job. I stumbled over a classified ad in the newspaper (remember those?) with openings for over-the-phone sales representative positions, but, in my haste and excitement in getting an interview, I didn’t yet realize the concise (and maybe a bit over-simplified) term for my new potential job. I was going to be a telemarketer.
“We don’t cold call,” my supervisors kept emphasizing all throughout training. Our call center served a few client organizations, all of whom had lists of people to call who already had connections and associations with said organizations. We weren’t picking random phone numbers or citizens to call, so, technically, we weren’t “cold calling.” Therefore, the chances of ending up on the phone with an angry and insulting person were supposedly decreased.
But said connections and associations were sometimes very loose. Just because you’re an alumnus of a large state university or the member of a diocese doesn’t mean you’d be thrilled to get a call from a complete stranger. Many calls were tough to handle. Some of them I can’t re-type the hard-to-forget and insulting words here. I did enjoy taking surveys on behalf of colleges for high school upperclassmen, (that way, in their parents’ eyes, I quickly got promoted from “scum of the earth” to “hope for their kids‘ future”), but this was my emotionally-draining life, five days a week, that summer.
I wanted to quit. Almost everyday. Badly. My parents encouraged me to stick it out for the summer. That job paid for all my college supplies and the experience on my resume helped me quickly land a lucrative on-campus job at my Christian school, calling alumni, updating info and fundraising. Surely, when calling alumni of a Christian school, my chances of ending up on the phone with an angry and insulting person are further decreased, right? Thankfully, with my now alma mater, I’m proud to say yes. But with the Christians in general? Not so much.
The thing is that I’ve written and spoken to various pockets of Christian communities in my travels before about the idea of being gracious to telemarketers. I speak of my own experience, and about how telemarketers aren’t all sadistic dinner-interrupters that get paid high commission and have a lot of power over their own employment. Telemarketers are just trying to make a living until the internet and other forms of automation take over. Otherwise, why would they keep a job that’s so hated by pretty much everyone? When I speak about this, there’s never been a response that showed any hint of a remotely changed heart. In fact, it usually just turns into a sharing time of funny prank stories and other “hilarious” or horrible exchanges with those “annoying” and “mean” telemarketers.
As Christians, we worship and follow a man who took gracious and conversational initiative with annoying and even very offensive people: beggars and cripples that disrupt the sight of beautiful and holy buildings with their peddling, demon-possessed boys that disturb the peace, tax collectors that have impoverished families with their greed, Roman officers who represented the current oppression, outspoken crazy zealots and lowly Samaritans. The list goes on, yet we can’t show any grace to a single soul who called at a “bad time”? (Admit it. There is no “good time” to talk to a telemarketer). That doesn’t seem right.
So what should we do when a telemarketer calls? As a pastor and a former telemarketer, I’m certainly not advocating you need to buy anything they sell. What grace looks like in these circumstances is quite simple.
First, don’t hang up or pull some type of prank. Not only because it’s rude, but because the telemarketer will call back eventually, as you ended the call on what the telemarketing agency could only determine as a note of uncertainty. They never heard a “yes” or “no.” Second, decline their offer gracefully. They don’t run the business they’re calling for, so they likely have nothing to do with whatever disappoints you with the business (or even with the fact that they’re calling you). Just let them know you appreciate the offer, but you’ll have to decline. If you want, you can then nicely ask them to take you off whatever circulating “call list” your name is on. (Also, there’s a lot of telemarketer-blocking technology out there for you to employ, so you’ll eventually run out of excuses).
That’s it. Seriously, that’s all it takes to make a working telemarketer’s job a bit easier. Any type of encouragement (non-financial, mind you) would make their day.
Telemarketers are one of many blind spots of grace for Christians. We stand out when it comes to our theological views, political stances and cultural practices. But what about when it comes to how we treat our serving waitresses, cops who pull us over, customer service representatives, drivers who ignore the speed limit, and a host of other people who disagree with us, are “under us” or even wrong us? We tend to act like just a normal, depraved self-centered human. And that’s not right.
I was blessed in my years as a grocery bagger, cashier, telemarketer, waiter, coffeemaker and window-washer (most of the jobs I've had) to have occasional customers (sometimes Christian, sometimes not) who were gracious and encouraging to me on what was sometimes a truly emotionally-draining and even depressing day on the job. I was even handed encouraging Christmas cards, saying Jesus loved me. I can tell you that such grace and encouragement goes a long way with people that don’t remotely expect it, and even lends opportunity for fellowship and evangelism.
Let’s stand out by bringing grace and encouragement to the blind spots. You’d be surprised at what could happen.
No comments:
Post a Comment