Menstruating SUCKS! (Part 1)

Hi, welcome to 2017. This year I will say again that I’m going to write more for my blog because I say that every winter, it’s another winter and I’m here… writing. 

When my period first started – I was going on 13 I think – I was very poor and had to use tissue paper sometimes. It embarrasses me to say it to other people but that’s what happened. So from the beginning, before the cramps and the drama, my period came as another reminder that I was a near destitute member of society and I’ve hated it ever since.

There are plenty stories to tell but I will share the most recent one: the worst of bleedweek.

It was day two of the bleed and my period had given me no signs that some shit was going down. I felt brave enough to go to work kante ha ke itse! It was a set up…

An hour after changing my diaper pad – you know the ones – I stood up and felt my vagina turn into the Victoria Falls. But a young ho wore a diaper so she wasn’t stressed. Then a young ho returned to her seat to discover that her period had painted the chair red.

Not even a diaper can stop a uterus on a mission!

source

Of course I had to go home so that I could fold myself into a whiny, emotional mess but this bitch called uterus was not done yet. I was almost home when I felt a tickle on my inner thighs. The crippling pains were replaced by a violent flood of menstrual blood which was spilling into my shoes.

I HATE MY PERIOD. FUCK THIS UTERUS THING. FUCK WHOEVER INVENTED IT.

“Looking for Telesales Agents with Cold Calling experience”

As an unqualified job-seeker, I have limited options. Most adverts I see for me include:
“Promoters needed!!!!
“Hostesses Needed to entertain up-market men” (Uhhh.. Nah)
And the odd PA/Internship adverts as well.

If you know me (no, you don’t) you’ll know that I’m over-ambitious and applying only to jobs I do not qualify* to get paid for. Even in times of desperation I refuse to earn my money by answering phone-calls and dealing with disgruntled customers. My days of waiting on tables & serving drinks to strangers at a bar are over and it is time to swim with the medium-sized fish now.
*because I haven’t received my university stamp yet

While scrolling past these peasant jobs *sneer*, I see one category which deserves to have it’s own website;  that of “Call Center & Telesales Agents”. If they created only one site to advertise all available call center work it would be bigger than Facebook. Don’t misunderstand me, call center work is okay for people who cannot afford to further their education, as well as matriculants who are awaiting entry into university – but not for me. No. The hours are terrible, I don’t speak Afrikaans & I’ve done my bit to learn customer service and ‘dealing with difficult consumers’. Like I said, time to swim with medium fish.

I imagine my life as a call center agent would be horrible. I’d wake up early, maybe 4am. I don’t have a license nor a car, so I’d be rushing to catch the earliest taxis. After connecting two or three taxis I would walk a young distance from the stop to the office.
I’d walk in and let out a loud “GOOD MORNING” to everyone else stuck with me in there for the day and begin to take my calls. You must understand that answering the phone and helping people with whatever problems they have is not an issue. As long as all the relevant information is on hand it would be no struggle at all.

COLD CALLING

The work of the devil.

“Hello, I’m calling from [company’s name]. My name is Lindelwa & I’d like a few minutes of your time to tell you about [product/promotion]”

“I don’t think I signed up for [company’s] information, where did you get my number?!” the unsuspecting customer [read: Victim] would respond.

I take a deep breath and try to remain calm while I figure out how to explain to this victim that I am calling out of the blue, at the instruction of my supervisor & I picked his number at random, from the telephone directory.
Furious, he shouts at me.
“YOU PEOPLE JUST TAKE OUR NUMBERS FROM THE PHONEBOOK TO DISTURB US WHILE WE’RE WORKING. NXLA! *profanity*” before he hangs up the phone.

I sit there, taking a few minutes to collect myself. I must take deep breath several times before I lift the receiver to my ear & try again.

“Hello, I’m calling from [company’s name]. My name is Lindelwa & I’d like a few minutes of your time to tell you about [product/promotion]”

“LISTEN HERE! SOMEONE ELSE JUST CALLED ME FROM YOUR COMPANY NOW AND YOU’RE CALLING ME AGAIN ALREADY? CAN YOU PEOPLE STOP HARASSING ME?” victim number two screams at me.

I don’t think I can take anymore. I have previously discussed with my employer the necessity of keeping & maintaining a database to prevent such situations. My plea fell on deaf ears.

An animated woman throwing a telephone receiver against the table. The receiver is broken into pieces.

I’m done

 

It’s a month later, after pay-day. I hand in my resignation.
I cannot handle it.