I’ve had a very strange weekend.
I walked in to my apartment Saturday night after work to
a bunch of strange people who had absolutely no business
being there.
There was ghetto music blaring out of my TV, my books
were all over the place, and my apartment was in the
process of being rearranged to fit somebody else’s
likes.
When I opened the door, (which was unlocked), the
intruders even had the nerve to try to joke around with
me, and tell me I was at the wrong apartment.
I thought the same thing myself, due to the fact that
the place didn’t smell like my apartment usually does,
(besides the familiar smell of the place, I had some
apple-cinnamon Glade plug-ins, and it kind of smelled
like incense, since I burn that a lot, and it smelled
like books). I’m sure when you walk into your home
after a long time away from it, you recognize familiar
smells that identify it as your home, as opposed to
someone else’s.
Well, every last bit of that was gone when I walked in
Saturday night after work.
I got no notice from the apartment management that they
wanted to move someone else in, and they have my number,
because they gave it to the woman who’s my current
roommate.
This new person isn’t a roommate, she’s an occupier.
From the information she, her mother, her aunt and some
guy who I, (and Andrew from looking at the kid who was
with him), assume is her baby’s daddy, despite what they
all say about him being just a family friend, there was
some sort of “altercation” between the invader and her
former roommates, and she got locked out of her
apartment.
No violence was involved, no threats were made, and,
according to all of them, she wasn’t the offender, and
she didn’t do anything wrong.
Yet someone decided that the situation was of emergency
importance, so much so that they had no problem telling
some strange people to just go right ahead and move into
my apartment, because this poor 19-year-old girl
couldn’t figure out how to deal with her roommates, and
because she’s alergic to cats, and because she wanted
her other roommate, who she got along with, to have a
chance to move in with her.
All of the above is absolutely not my problem, and I
could care less.
They said there was another apartment open.
Let her move into that one, after the people living
there have been notified.
It wouldn’t kill her and her friendly roommate to have
to deal with the inconvenience of walking less than a
block to be able to hang out.
Or better yet, she can grow up, and learn to resolve the
dispute with the other roommates.
I didn’t create the drama, and I shouldn’t have to bear
the consequences.
I sure as hell am not going to put up with someone
coming into my apartment, without my permission or
knowledge, and taking it over.
The contents of my cabbinets have been
rearranged, my refridgerator has been rearranged, my
stove’s in pieces, my books are all over the place.
Their excuse: “We just wanted to clean up a little.”
First of all, my apartment wasn’t dirty.
Yes, it needed to be straightened up, which I am quite
capable of doing myself, and had set aside for my next
day off.
Secondly, even if I wanted someone else to do it, I’m
quite capable of asking myself.
But that’s beyond the point.
They ended up making more of a mess than straightening.
My place is now a disaster area.
Sure, they mopped the kitchen floor, and wiped down the
kitchen.
But that’s it.
Everything else they wanted to do is just a list of
ideas, and, as I said, her shit’s all over the place in
my living room, along with my books, and the trash can
from the kitchen.
Apparently, she likes her trash can better.
I’m going to the office later today, and going seven
levels of postal.
This is completely unacceptable.
Furthermore, I’m not going to put up with it.
She is going to get the fuck out, and I will expend
every last bit of effort I can muster to get her out.

23 November 2004

It’s Tuesday now.
I went to the office yesterday afternoon.
After they gushed on about how they understood how much
of a shock it must have been to find several strangers
in my apartment, and then further to have them try to
convince me I was at the wrong apartment because they
thought it might be funny, and still further to find
that everything in my cabbinets had been rearranged, I
was told that, if I really expected my rights and needs
to be respected, then it would be best if I moved,
because this complex doesn’t cater to mature adults.
Well, that’s perfectly fine with me.
If they think I should move, so be it.
I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.
Since I started writing this last week, things have
changed yet again.
The head manager’s gotten involved, agreed that it was a
bad move on the part of the assistant manager to move
the girl in without letting me know, and has prepared a
list of apartments for her to look at in order to find a
permanent place to live, permanent being relative to the
length of her lease.
So that means she’ll be out of here soon.
That’s good, because the only praise from her mother
I’ve seen her live up to is the part about working.
Im yirtza Yehovah, this will all be over soonn, and I
can get back to my life before all the upheaval.

I took today off work, for no other reason than I woke up this morning, and
really had no desire or motivation, of any kind, to go in to work and put up
with the shit. Not that I’m desirous or motivated on other days, but today
I coulndn’t even convince myself by pointing out to myself that’s it’s the
responsible thing to do, and that I should be doing my best to be a
conscientious worker. Just couldn’t do it, prudent or not. And it’s not
like I’m not a cinscientious worker. I’m there when I’m supposed to be, and
the only days I take are the ones allotted to me by Convergys. Well, today
I decided to take one just because I could. I earned some absences back on
the 30th of September, so I’m not in danger of being fired, at least on
account of attendance. Fruthermore, this one will roll off on the 19th of
December, and I’ll also have two more that will roll off at the beginning of
December, because it will have been a calendar year since they occurred. I
look at this as giving myself some unpaid time off, since the company isn’t
going to be gracious enough to do it. I deserve some extra days off too,
and I shouldn’t have to wait until the moon is in the right phase, the
planets are properly aligned, and all the omens point to an advantageous day
before I get some extra time off.

I just looked at my paycheck online. I only got paid for 64 hours. That’s a little over a week and a half. Fucking Cornelius! Why does he have to be so incompetant? The little shit probably keyed in my hours incorrectly, *again*, because I know I was there, and worked, for 80 hours within that pay period. Fuck me! And given the supervisor changes going on, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to go to about this. If I go straight to HR, they’ll just tell me to go to my supervisor. I hate that fucking job! Why can’t I just go in to work sedated, or drunk? I mean, it would be easier to deal with it that way. I thought about going for benefits, but why would I want to do that when they keep fucking up my paycheck, and I have to make some serious rearrangements just to get my fucking bills paid? GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!

OK, I’m going on record with the following:

Jerry, you are an idiot. For everyone else’s amusement, or eddification,
whichever you choose, or maybe even disgust, Jerry sold a $1100 Dectalk
Express for three cartons of cigarettes and a wireless NIC. Even if you buy
the most expensive cigarettes, and the most expensive wireless NIC, you
still aren’t even close to half the falue of a Dectalk. That has got to be
the most pathetic thing I’ve seen in a long time, with the exception of the
Convergys stuff. Come on! I know people who are in to drugs hard core that
aren’t that desperate. And it’s only cigarettes! Did you get high-grade
ones or something, or some cheap brand like basics? And you can get a
wireless NIC for about $60! And when the cigarettes are gone, then what?
Jerry, I don’t mean to disrespect you or anything, but if you’re going to
get rid of your hardware, make sure you get something at least close to
equivalent in return. YOu can’t even call what you did bartering. Some
people never figure it out.

I don’t have to see the Cue Continuum for the next three days or so, and I’ve got chicken and rice in the crockpot, which makes for good writing conditions. It’s been rainy here off and on all week, especially today and yesterday and Wednesday. This entry could get rather long, but not long enough that it warrants a cut, at least in my oppinion, and my oppinion is the only oppinion that matters.

I didn’t watch the debate this week. I’ve been under the weather for the last few days, and just didn’t have the attention span for it. Allen Dorch, one of the bigwigs from Express Scripts, was at the Cue Continuum this week. So, naturally, he was welcomed with honors by management, and we customer servants were expected to pay him the proper respect befitting our overlord. For those who couldn’t tell, the previous statement was rife with sarcasm. DJ inquired, and I have to agree: “Is this the man who fucks me in the ass on a daily basis?” to which, he got no answer from management, and uproars of laughter from those of us who sit on his row. He didn’t break any rules, (at least any that I know of), and John’s in training this week bringing what are supposed to be more agents, (most of whom will probably join the Mama P Moffia), onto the floor, so DJ probably won’t be reprimanded for that comment. Everyone on my row wanted me to try and trip Dorch with my cane, and some offered to do it themselves. But I never managed it. I almost tripped Gail though, and Cornelius, (my supervisor), so that was cool. That would so humiliate either of them, and I’d love to get the chance to do that. The results of the popularity contest known as the mass application for the supervisor position are supposed to be out today, so that means I’ll probably find out who joined the ranks of the willingly-assimilated on Monday. It probably won’t be Vernon, because he’s the most qualified for the job, and that would make the most sense, and he’s not going to just do what he’s told, no matter the ethical or moral consequences. DJ probably won’t get it, because he’s too vocal about his dislike of what goes on around there. Rebecca might get it, because she’s Ms. Convergys, and they’ll like that. Beyond that, I don’t know about the rest. I’ll post the results here. Some of my readers might be interested, especially and

I’m beginning to think that, whoever becomes president needs to grant someone the funds to do a study on what exactly everyone who works in the human resources departments across this country does all fucking week, because they never get anything right. I got paid this week, and for 80 hours of work, I was paid $423. Fucking pathetic. Every pay period, I have to go to HR, and argue with them over my paycheck, and then they tell me they’ll look into it. I’m sick and tired of this. Can’t I have one pay period where everything is as it should be, and I’m not shorted a huge amount of money? I’m supposed to be paid $8.50 per hour, and I know that that should come out to more than $423, even after taxes. I’m sick and tired of all the shit! Why does this whole thing have to be so damned difficult? You can’t tell me it’s that fucking difficult to get this shit straight. Come on! We all have computers, and Windows is virtually dummy-proof, and most of the people who work in our HR dept don’t even know enough to be dangerous. So what’s the problem? Every time I walk in to HR, nothing’s going on, except the latest episode of as the cluster fucks, meaning that all that’s really going on is a bunch of gossip. I have an idea. Let’s build the JW Cathedral, and put everyone from HR in it, no matter what company they work for, and just lock the doors. They can feed on miracle wheat for the rest of their lives, and that way they won’t bother any of us, ever again. (If you need an explanation as to the origin of the JW cathedral concept, please leave a comment.) And let’s throw Bob in there too, just to annoy the HR people. And we could throw Mell Gibson in there as well. That ought to make things really interesting. BTW, yes, I have seen the Passion of the Gibson, (otherwise known as The Passion of the Christ), and will review it in a later entry.

And now, for an apology. Ray, I want to apologize for criticizing you for being neurotic. I’m not saying you weren’t neurotic, I’m just saying you had every single right to be neurotic. Given the events in the past couple of weeks, I’m headed there myself. To tell the truth, I’m paranoid that I’m going to slip up and say something that will incriminate me in the eyes of Quality, and thus get me fired. You know it’s bad when you wonder what you’ve done every time your supervisor tells you to log into coaching, and comes over to your cube with a piece of paper and a pen. And you know it’s really bad when you start having fucked-up dreams about your place of employment. I think the most disturbing dream was the one where my boyfriend moved Convergys to the basement of his house so that we could be closer to each other, and so he could make some extra money by charging them rent. And I was wearing a headset during the dream, and Jaws was narrating it. I think I’m going to get really drunk this weekend, since it’s three days long. I’ll be fine once I quit working for Convergys, which should be as soon as I’ve saved up enough money to move, but getting there could be interesting. I think I need a new T-shirt, which says: Pray for me, I work for Convergys. Or we could make that in to a bumper sticker. I could probably make some money off something like that.

I think I need a new crockpot. Everything keeps sticking to the one I have, no matter how much liquid you put in, and it’s too small, so you can’t add lots of stuff to whatever you’re making. For instance, not much vegetable to the chicken and rice. And, as I said, things keep sticking, no matter how much you stir or how much liquid you put in. I’ll probably get one that allows for the glass part to be removed, for easier cleaning. I saved what I could of the chicken and rice, (which was over half, so not bad), and am now letting the crockpot soak. Better luck next time.

Ken quit Convergys this week, so there goes our source for sick, twisted humor. I’m going to miss him. He was quite entertaining. I’m surprised he didn’t quit beforehand, though.

Here’s a good idea for an updated way to choose the president. Given that they’re all going to lie to some degree or other, and, in actuality, Congress makes most of the decisions anyway, let’s just have a presidential drinking contest. Whoever wins the contest gets the presidency. Sounds good enough to me. Or let’s just have a presidential street fight. Nothing wrong with brutal violent contact sports, unless your a sensitive new-age guy, in which case, I have no use for you anyway. Whoever wins the fight gets the presidency. Not too difficult, or complicated. We could televise those too, and they’d be a lot more fun to watch, and you can’t say it wouldn’t be entertaining to watch carey and Bush duke it out.

Here’s one last rant: Why is it that people who don’t live in this country feel they have a right to make decisions about who should govern it? And most of those comments aren’t coming from countries with whom we’ve contended in war, they’re coming from countries in Europe, or the southern hemesphere, who, as a whole, aren’t doing a damned thing to try to make this world a better place for everybody to live in, unless you count taking kick-backs from the oil-for-food program as doing their part. Our leaders are far from perfect, and they should be called to task for any decisions they make which have a negative effect, or are viewed as irresponsible. But the only people who have a right to do that are the people who put them in their current positions, and those people are the citizens of this country. We may not be doing everything right in the war against terrorists. But at least we’ve taken a stand, and we’re not going to just sit around and let fanatics take over the world, and destroy societies who value freedom and basic human rights. Furthermore, we aren’t telling the European Union who it’s leaders should be, nor are we telling any of the other countries in which liberals who have decided they know best who should lead this country reside who their leaders should be. Therefore, anyone who has the urge to dictate to the United States who its leaders should be would do well to extend the same courtesy.

I think I’ve written enough for one entry, so I’ll end it here. Everybody take care, and feel free to leave comments. I’m sure I’ve said something that will piss somebody off. Sometimes I get a real kick out of doing that. LOL!

I started this entry last night.

I looked at some random Convergys stats today. Here they are, or, rather, the most important one:
We had 167 agents as of last month. Now, we have 145. That means that they fire an average of one agent every few days.

Today was really bad. I spent the whole day being screamed at by pharmacists, the high-point of which was being yelled at by some guy who couldn’t electronically reverse claims, and told me that *I* was going to sit on the phone with him all night if necessary, until *I* came up with some answers, and they had better be satisfactory ones, yesterday. When I told him that he needed to talk to his software vender, he launched in to a huge rant about my irresponsibility, and various and sundry insults, and of course, I sat there, like a good little Convergys bitch, and took it. I hate that place, and the people, and the work. One of these days, I’m going to reacquaint myself with my inner no.

The supervisor position has been posted. For those who don’t know, my supervisor, as well as another one, were only temporary supervisors, which means that they only kept the position for six months. After that, the position reopens, and they, along with anyone else who wants to, have to reapply. I think my supervisor’s scared he won’t get the position, because he and the other temp are far from the only ones applying. The other temp’s gotten himself in to trouble because of his going around and talking to agents when they’re supposed to be on the phones, and as a result they log in to aftercall or something like that to carry on a conversation with him, and it’s finally aroused the ire of Ashley, who works service level. I don’t think my supervisor will get it, because he’s really not that smart, or assertive, and I don’t think he’ll get lucky and pass the interview process a second time, if he didn’t have friends in HR the first time. And if that little idiot ends up back in the agent pool, he knows he’s screwed just like the rest of us, and he’ll be screwed by some of us, because he’s spent his time as a supervisor abusing his power, and screwing us over. If he’s no longer a supervisor, then he’s equal to us, and fair game. I have mixed feelings about all this, to tell the truth. Part of me wants to see the little bastard get eaten alive, because he’s acted like a weasle since he’s been a supervisor, and abused his power. But part of me also pitties him, because I know, and he probably has some inkling too, that a supervisory position at Convergys is the only form of power he will ever have, and the “general population” at Convergys can be pretty brutal, even if you haven’t done anything. All they have to do is perceive that you’ve done something, and you’re fair game. I can only imagine what it’ll be like if either my supervisor or the other temp get thrown back in to the fray. Either way, though, I’m not going to loose any sleep over it. They’ve made their beds, (or dug their graves), and now it’s going to be time for one of them to lay back and enjoy the upcoming ride.

Well fellow journalers, unfortunately, I have more crap to report from the Cue Continuum. I got my second quality write up on Thursday, for transferring a doctor to prior authorization when he specifically asked me to do just that, and after he had given me his name. But this time, the disciplinary action wasn’t administered in the monitoring room. It was administered on the floor, at the supervisor desk, in front of G-d and everybody. Quite humiliating. I tried to fight it. I turned what my stuporvisor was probably thinking would be a ten minute incident into one that lasted over an hour. When my stuporvisor said that I was given a 51.11 by quality for the above-mentioned call, and that he was giving me my written warning, (to my recollection, it was supposed to be one summary of discussion, one verbal, one written, and then you’re gone, but apparently I’m wrong. It’s one verbal, one written and then you’re gone), I protested as much as I could. Quality said I insisted on transferring the doctor to PA. Apparently saying “Let me transfer you to prior authorization” is now insisting. Quality also said I didn’t get his information. He gave me his name. What was I supposed to do, keep him on the line, get all his information, even though he specifically asked to be transferred to PA, only to have him repeat his info again? That would make three times for him to repeat his info. Apparently, however, I’m to do just that. And when I asked if my overall record would be considered when and/or if it came to the point of “termination” (after all, I have a quality score of 100 percent, with the exception of the two calls that quality has given me below 90 on, I’m always there, on time, and I do my work without complaint), and I was given the corporate version of no. I took it all the way to Jeff, who is the business manager, and got the same answer, and was told that ‘This is written in stone, and was decided by management, Express Scripts, and Human Resources. If you want to dispute it, you can go to Human resources.) In other words, Jeff, Dionne, and Miguel negotiated it, and Convergys aggreed to sacrifice its employees for the sake of Express Scripts’ pleasure and in order to keep the contract. We all know what will happen if I go to HR. They’ll fill out a paper, saying they’re investigating it, and it’ll go nowhere. Meanwhile, I suppose I’ll just have to remember not to trust my own judgment, because no matter what I have for a record, and no matter how hard I’ve worked, I’ll get shit on in the end, and canned if I don’t. I’ll just have to start asking tons of questions as well, so I don’t run the risk of running afowl of the almighty quality gods. And as if that’s not enough, the database has been “upgraded”, and as a result I get a big, huge long java eror whenever I try to do an override, and they’re blaming it on Jaws, and it’s apparently my responsibility to fix it, since I’m the only one who uses Jaws, and if it’s not fixed, I’ll probably be told that it’s best if I resign. For those who don’t know, overrides are a large part of what we do. I’m telling you right now, if they fire me, I’ll make a huge scene. If they’re going to escort me off the property, I’m going to give them a reason to, and I’ll make them go so far as to call the cops. I hate working for a company that treats its bottom-rung employees like shit, and where even the supervosirs will stab you in the back. When it came to my write-up Thursday, my supervisor went to John, who was my trainer, and apparently John told him that we’re not to supposed to transfer doctors to PA when they ask to be transferred. Only I’ve had several other agents who have worked there almost as long as I have tell me that we can do that. Fucking liberal bastard! For one thing, I don’t remember him even addressing that in training. Furthermore, like I said, I’ve had several agents tell me that what I did was correct, so if it’s not, when why aren’t more people being written up by quality for the same thing? I’m not a conspiracy theorist, and I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but all this week has done is to reinforce my belief that they’re gunning for me, and they’re not going to stop until I’m gone. Yeah well, when they do finally get rid of me, I’m going to make sure that they create a martyr. I’m not going quietly, or meekly. I’m going to be extremely vocal about it. So, if any of you here about me getting in trouble with the cops, don’t be surprised.

Feel free to comment with your thoughts, as well as oppinions.

Today is 29 Elul, the final day of the year 5764, according to the Jewish calendar. In light of that fact, I’d like to take this time to offer all of you my wish that you be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life for a happy, sweet, prosperous and joyous year. I hope all goes well for you all, and that you don’t have too many pitfalls to deal with.

Coming up next on “As The Claim Processes,” alternately known as “As The Cluster Fucks,”:

#100048365 of Convergys, (otherwise known as Amanda), gets a verbal warning, (a mild form of writing-up, or disciplinary action, for those who have remained undefiled by the Convergys).

I was busy taking the phone calls yesterday afternoon, (we’re taking on the call volume for the FT. Pierce center due to their recent encounter with Hurricane Francess), and I was asked by my supervisor to “log into coaching and come to the monitoring room.” For those ex-Convergysites who were never blessed with the opportunity to go to the monitoring room, here follows a brief description of the path taken and the destination reached.

The monitoring room is hidden somewhere within the bowels of the building, out of the way of everything else, and it shares a back wall with the quality room, where the actual quality decisions get made. Think of the monitoring room as … uh … the anal deposit box for quality. You should think of it in this way because, whenever quality wants to shit on you, this is where you’ll be when it happens. And now that you have the preliminaries down, we can return to the entertainment portion of the program.

So I was led away to the monitoring room, and informed that I received an 82.22 percent on one of my calls. Let me state here that the rules have been changed, and the antie been upped. It’s no longer three 0 calls and you’re gone. It’s now three calls under 90 percent and you’re gone. For the first offense, you receive a verbal warning, followed by a written one for the second offense, and “termination due to quality” for the third. I was penalized for the following: Failing to obtain the medication, strength and prescription number from the pharmacist for the claim in question. The pharmacist had given the medication and strength, and had completely spelled out the problem, but I was penalized for not getting the prescription number, and they called it faliling to identify the drug. I was penalized for not keeping the pharmacist informed, after I had already informed the pharmacist I was performing an override for the claim in question, and was in the midst of performing the override. We’re apparently supposed to treat these people like they’re stupid, and can’t figure out what’s going on, even after we’ve informed them. I think maybe I should just say to them, in a mechanical voice, so that I fulfill all the “quality” requirements: “now performing … (name task) … Please wait” every 30 seconds or so, in order to avoid “dead air”, as they call it. The next thing I was penalized for was not asking the pharmacist if they needed further assistance, after the pharmacist had already stated that that was all they needed. “Would you like a hot apple assistance with that????”

My supervisor tried to stop quality from taking as many points as they did, but they wouldn’t budge on it. So I got the verbal warning, and thus have to try my best not to use my brain, or I’ll receive further disciplinary action. I! Hate! This! Fucking! Job!!!! The whole thing is fucking ridiculous. Customer service sucks. And I’m tired of taking it up the ass for $8.50 an hour. Yes, it’s finally $8.50 an hour. So I’m going to keep at this as long as I can, and save up the money, and get the fuck away from Convergys.

I figure since I have the day off, I’ll take this opportunity to post. Things are fucked-up as usual at work. I came down with something this week, still haven’t figured out whether it was food poisoning or some sort of stomach virus, but either way, the end result was the same. Lots of output … uh, I mean, pukage. And you’d think that the folks I work for would have let me take the two days necessary to get over it, right? Wrong! I had to go to work, and literally go puke between phone calls. I was pretty muchy over it by about 10:00 last night, but I honestly have no idea how I made it through the last two days. I know I took the phone calls, though, and that I still have a job, so it must not have been below Convergys standard. What a bunch of bullshit. I do know that puking on my supervisor seemed like a really good idea at the time, but I just never managed to have to puke when he was around. Puking on the operations manager would have been cool too. We have a bunch of new people at work for the AT&T project, and they’re pretty much the same kind of people, except they’re loud and obnoxious. Or maybe that was the fact that I really wasn’t feeling good coming in to play. Probably a little of both. Anyway, they’ve turned the pattio, which used to be a haven for smokers and other normal people in to some sort of … well … an extention of the floor, without the beep. So no more peace after 7:00. They’ve switched my lunch to around 8:00 or 9:00, and that used to mean peace and quiet while I ate. That was the only good thing about it. But not any more. And now they’re telling us that they don’t want us hitting the mute button to make comments about pharmacists being stupid, because it damages the morale of the other employees. Pretty soon, they’ll make it a rule. YOu know how it is, they know that most of us, even the smart ones, do the bare minimum, because, what’s the point of working extra hard when they’re going to screw you anyway? My supervisor was blocking the door last night, asking those on their way out if they would work some overtime. He got a resounding “no” from most. So he and the other supervisors had to get on the phone. That was funny. John was watching the cue, and got on Terry for being in aftercall. That was hilarious, but what was even funnier was Terry’s response. When John asked him what he was in, (aftercall or auto-in), Terry told him that he was in whatever he wanted to be in. It’s funny what happens when you put one supervisor in charge of another. It’s like a mini-agent-supervisor relationship on display.