At the moment, I'm writing this from the basement of a high school in Rochester, NY. I was out of work for four days before I got a call from a friend who teaches here, and he told me that the school needed a substitute textbook clerk for the rest of the year. As this is the same system where I'd been a librarian, I knew the cataloging system (as well as the librarian here), so I started right up.
The air handling units for this side of the building are in the ceiling above this room, so there's a constant rattle at about normal conversation level. It's also right next to the door to the cafeteria, so I've got the noise of students shouting, ranting, and all the other normal things that teenagers do.
However, when I get tired of being down here, I have an office up on the second floor, and there are four other book rooms I'm responsible for (though the majority of the work really needs to be done down here).
And if I think it's too much, I just have to remember that I could be back in the cube farm of collections.
The tools a collector needs are a phone, a computer, and a place to write notes and on forms. Given this, the best setup to maximize floor space and building space is cubicles.
The building itself is a pre-fab warehouse-style building - very non-descript and meant to blend in. (Though the building is sealed and the windows are bulletproof, just in case it doesn't blend in well enough.) Which means the inside has high ceilings, along with sound baffles and dampeners to keep the noise to a dull roar.
There is also background music. Usually classic or modern rock, with occasional switches to country.
The cubicle walls are greenish/grey, on which I was supposed to have tacked up various important lists and documents - fax numbers, policies, training scripts and notes, etc. In the middle of my time there, there even was a memo that came out documenting exactly how everything was supposed to be posted in the cubicle, and what lists were supposed to be where.
We were encouraged to put up pictures on the walls that weren't covered by official paper, especially anything related to our "visualization" of what we were working for. This didn't take hold so much in my area as it did in others - if you looked at other teams, you saw pictures of motorcycles, cars, boats, vacation spots, and other such things.
The computers took up the bulk of the desk, along with the phone. For ease of calling we all had headsets, and the dialler was run through the computer. The cord connecting the headset to the phone was about seven feet, so you had a bit of an ability to stand up and walk around.
Looking back after only a couple of weeks out, it does seem strange that I was essentially tethered to my desk for eight hours a day. And in the final month it was one of the things that became unbearable about the job - I got jittery if I sat down too long, and needed to move a lot. Which meant putting my dialler on pause. And dialler status statistics are viewable by management from department manager on up.
The ritual of sitting down and putting on the headset did give you a sense of grounding - a sort of tunnel vision, Matrix-style, of you, the computer, and the person you are trying to reach. Collectors who can achieve that sort of focus are praised - my manager often told me that was his mindset when he'd been a collector, as did the manager of the next team over. Not hearing everything else, just disappearing into the zone.
It sounded very much like some creative zones I'd experinced in writing, reading, and music. I did manage to find that zone a couple of times, and it scared me a bit when I did. Which is probably another reason I was not successful at the job.
The first day after I got fired, I waited until my appointed time when I would normally be plugging in to the system, and I went to sit down by the creek out behind my apartment. I listened to the rushing water, the noise of the village, and a passing train. It was a far better day.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
If you're hiding, you're not very good at it
Several times I ended up talking to people who claimed to be in hiding from people. Ex-husbands, family, and people who wanted to do them harm. I even had one guy who claimed to be in super-secret hiding from the mob - for him, I had a simple answer: If you're hiding from the Mob, don't list your phone number in the White Pages, cause that's where I found you.
I often felt bad for those who were in hiding from an ex-husband, because people who try to hide often aren't willing to go full out to do what it takes to drop off the map. So they still have searchable work, relatives, and other trails that bill collectors can find. And when we find them, they spook. I had one borrower who I was working with her mother on getting her a hardship program, but I have no idea what happened.
There were two interesting hiding cases I remember. A colleague of mine called a neighbor to pass the message on to the borrower, and she called back to give her an earful. And this is the approximation of it:
She was on the run from her abusive husband who had threatened to kill her and her children. We had actually called her mother's neighbors, as that was where she got her mail, but she was hiding even there. She didn't even KNOW the neighbors - they just randomly came over and handed her the message.
And now we had blown her cover, and put her children at risk, and they might all die next week just so we could collect a couple of bucks. And how did we feel about that?
My poor colleague was all worked up, but I asked her if the borrower was so stealthy, how did the neighbors know who she was to pass on the message? My colleague did say that the neighbors had nothing nice to say about her (and their kids played together), so she was obviously known. I also pointed out that if the threat really were that serious, one should consider relocating a little further away than 20 miles. Or getting police protection.
Or, when you are offered a hardship arrangement on your loans, you call back. Which is what she failed to do.
The other one was much more interesting. It was an 'open season' new buisness account on a Sunday, and a ridiculously high balance. I did some poking around with the databases, and found there was no record for the borrower after 2005. However, there was an associate who was supposely in his 80s who had no record prior to 2005, and had the same last name as the prior city the borrower had lived in.
It piqued my interest, and I copied the associates phone number...only to realize a colleague had called and left a message a half hour before. So it was a matter of a call back.
Which came. Apparently from a voice that sounded much younger than 80's, screaming that he didn't know anyone by that name, and there wasn't anyone by that name in the system - there couldn't be. The borrower was gone, had been for years.
"But I thought you didn't know him?"
"Ap...erp...don't call here again." *click*
I poked at it a bit more and found an address to check out the following day, and wrote down the number.
When I got in, the account was gone. Removed entirely from the system. Which is amazing, as any account being removed usually takes at least 24 hours to vanish. So I asked the manager.
"Yeah, I was told someone at the big office removed the account. No explanation - just said the account's going, and make sure you don't call anyone about the account. Never had that happen before."
And somewhere, someone is looking over his shoulder a little more carefully. Because if WE found him....
I often felt bad for those who were in hiding from an ex-husband, because people who try to hide often aren't willing to go full out to do what it takes to drop off the map. So they still have searchable work, relatives, and other trails that bill collectors can find. And when we find them, they spook. I had one borrower who I was working with her mother on getting her a hardship program, but I have no idea what happened.
There were two interesting hiding cases I remember. A colleague of mine called a neighbor to pass the message on to the borrower, and she called back to give her an earful. And this is the approximation of it:
She was on the run from her abusive husband who had threatened to kill her and her children. We had actually called her mother's neighbors, as that was where she got her mail, but she was hiding even there. She didn't even KNOW the neighbors - they just randomly came over and handed her the message.
And now we had blown her cover, and put her children at risk, and they might all die next week just so we could collect a couple of bucks. And how did we feel about that?
My poor colleague was all worked up, but I asked her if the borrower was so stealthy, how did the neighbors know who she was to pass on the message? My colleague did say that the neighbors had nothing nice to say about her (and their kids played together), so she was obviously known. I also pointed out that if the threat really were that serious, one should consider relocating a little further away than 20 miles. Or getting police protection.
Or, when you are offered a hardship arrangement on your loans, you call back. Which is what she failed to do.
The other one was much more interesting. It was an 'open season' new buisness account on a Sunday, and a ridiculously high balance. I did some poking around with the databases, and found there was no record for the borrower after 2005. However, there was an associate who was supposely in his 80s who had no record prior to 2005, and had the same last name as the prior city the borrower had lived in.
It piqued my interest, and I copied the associates phone number...only to realize a colleague had called and left a message a half hour before. So it was a matter of a call back.
Which came. Apparently from a voice that sounded much younger than 80's, screaming that he didn't know anyone by that name, and there wasn't anyone by that name in the system - there couldn't be. The borrower was gone, had been for years.
"But I thought you didn't know him?"
"Ap...erp...don't call here again." *click*
I poked at it a bit more and found an address to check out the following day, and wrote down the number.
When I got in, the account was gone. Removed entirely from the system. Which is amazing, as any account being removed usually takes at least 24 hours to vanish. So I asked the manager.
"Yeah, I was told someone at the big office removed the account. No explanation - just said the account's going, and make sure you don't call anyone about the account. Never had that happen before."
And somewhere, someone is looking over his shoulder a little more carefully. Because if WE found him....
Wake the neighbors
Heading out into the really far realm of uncomfortable 3rd party is calling neighbors. These calls depend on several things, first being full knowledge of the person's address, and an understanding of geography:
"I've never heard of the guy. No, I don't live in Seattle - dude, you have the wrong fucking AREA CODE for Seattle. I'm in fucking OREGON. Moron."
The borrowers we're trying to track down often tend to be transient, so often they've moved on in the distant past, leaving only memories...and other unpaid bills.
"Her? Yeah, her and her deadbeat boyfriend skipped out on a couple months of back rent - ran out in the dead of night, and I had to fumigate the place before I could rent it again. You find her, you let me know, okay?"
"Oh crap, that was the guy who set fire to his lawn right before the cops busted down his door, wasn't it? Man, that was funny..."
Most of the time I never got any useful information from neighbors, but there is always that "collector's legend" of the neighbor who brings the phone over to the neighbor across the street, and they pay. So we keep calling neighbors.
I had one borrower I had pinned down to being self-employed and definitely at the home address. All other reference avenues turned into dead ends, so I decided to break down and finally call a neighbor.
"Hey there, I'm trying to reach Mrs. Jones."
"Nope, that's my neighbor. Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm calling long distance from New York and the other number I thought was hers in disconnected and I need to speak to her. Is there any way you can get a message to her?" (Neighbors will often leave messages - that's pretty common. Not that they ever call back, but still.)
"Hold on - they just pulled in. Let me see if the cordless reaches that far."
A rustling on the end of the line, and then:
"Hello? Who the fuck are you and why are you calling my neighbor to get ahold of me?"
"Well, I think we may have a business matter of yours in our office..."
"You're a FUCKING BILL COLLECTOR and you called my FUCKING NEIGHBOR? Listen here you miserable little shit...(slightly muffled) Stop your goddamn whining, and I'll get you your fucking animal crackers in a minute...(back in my ear) NEVER FUCKING CALL THIS NUMBER FOR ME AGAIN." *click*
Okay - just short of legend. Now if only I'd have gotten her to pay...
"I've never heard of the guy. No, I don't live in Seattle - dude, you have the wrong fucking AREA CODE for Seattle. I'm in fucking OREGON. Moron."
The borrowers we're trying to track down often tend to be transient, so often they've moved on in the distant past, leaving only memories...and other unpaid bills.
"Her? Yeah, her and her deadbeat boyfriend skipped out on a couple months of back rent - ran out in the dead of night, and I had to fumigate the place before I could rent it again. You find her, you let me know, okay?"
"Oh crap, that was the guy who set fire to his lawn right before the cops busted down his door, wasn't it? Man, that was funny..."
Most of the time I never got any useful information from neighbors, but there is always that "collector's legend" of the neighbor who brings the phone over to the neighbor across the street, and they pay. So we keep calling neighbors.
I had one borrower I had pinned down to being self-employed and definitely at the home address. All other reference avenues turned into dead ends, so I decided to break down and finally call a neighbor.
"Hey there, I'm trying to reach Mrs. Jones."
"Nope, that's my neighbor. Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm calling long distance from New York and the other number I thought was hers in disconnected and I need to speak to her. Is there any way you can get a message to her?" (Neighbors will often leave messages - that's pretty common. Not that they ever call back, but still.)
"Hold on - they just pulled in. Let me see if the cordless reaches that far."
A rustling on the end of the line, and then:
"Hello? Who the fuck are you and why are you calling my neighbor to get ahold of me?"
"Well, I think we may have a business matter of yours in our office..."
"You're a FUCKING BILL COLLECTOR and you called my FUCKING NEIGHBOR? Listen here you miserable little shit...(slightly muffled) Stop your goddamn whining, and I'll get you your fucking animal crackers in a minute...(back in my ear) NEVER FUCKING CALL THIS NUMBER FOR ME AGAIN." *click*
Okay - just short of legend. Now if only I'd have gotten her to pay...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Relatives
I was never comfortable calling relatives. References that the borrower had willingly put down at one point was uncomfortable enough, but calling other relatives just opened up all sorts of other possibilities of uncomfortable for me.
We find relatives in a couple of ways. One is through a people finding database that lists various relatives and "associates". The other is through guesswork - if the last name is moderately uncommon, then most likely someone with that same last name in the same town is going to be related somehow.
Most of the time the reaction I would get when I called a relative was "Who? Nope, don't know her at all." Occasionally you get a gut feeling that they're lying to you, but there really isn't all that much you can do.
The discomfort levels come from the people who do know the borrower, and are more than willing to share a bit more than I'd like:
"Oh, that's my cousin. Yeah, we don't talk much anymore since she broke into our grandma's house and stole a bunch of money for her drug addiction. Couldn't help you."
"Why's that asshole giving out my number? He never calls unless he needs something - didn't even call me when I had the operation for my bladder cancer. Do you know how painful it is to have to use that bag to piss into? Well, let me tell you..."
"You want who? How did you get this number? He doesn't know this number. Oh shit, now I'm gonna have to change it all over again, you miserable..." *click*
"Now, who are you? What is this about? Well, if I'm going to get her the message, I need to know..." (Disclosure violation waiting to happen. Hang up the phone and run like your job depends on it.)
The truly entertaining relative calls are if they happen to be former in-laws. You either get the complete shut down, or all the information you could ask for. Colleague got a perfect hit on a 30K account hitting a relative who turned out to the be ex-wife who'd just filed suit for back child support and had all sorts of useful information.
And then you get the sob stories about the drug use, the losers, deadbeats, and other assorted dregs of humanity. You hear about the violence ("they finally locked his ass up for beatin' on my sister"), the scam artists ("she cleaned out my bank account years ago - haven't seen her since"), and the people who just wandered off into the sunset ("he's probably under a bridge somewhere drunk, stoned, or dead. Maybe all three.")
And I never got anything useful. At least not in a time frame to make the info something that would benefit me. And that's not even getting into calling non-relatives, which I'll leave that for another post.
We find relatives in a couple of ways. One is through a people finding database that lists various relatives and "associates". The other is through guesswork - if the last name is moderately uncommon, then most likely someone with that same last name in the same town is going to be related somehow.
Most of the time the reaction I would get when I called a relative was "Who? Nope, don't know her at all." Occasionally you get a gut feeling that they're lying to you, but there really isn't all that much you can do.
The discomfort levels come from the people who do know the borrower, and are more than willing to share a bit more than I'd like:
"Oh, that's my cousin. Yeah, we don't talk much anymore since she broke into our grandma's house and stole a bunch of money for her drug addiction. Couldn't help you."
"Why's that asshole giving out my number? He never calls unless he needs something - didn't even call me when I had the operation for my bladder cancer. Do you know how painful it is to have to use that bag to piss into? Well, let me tell you..."
"You want who? How did you get this number? He doesn't know this number. Oh shit, now I'm gonna have to change it all over again, you miserable..." *click*
"Now, who are you? What is this about? Well, if I'm going to get her the message, I need to know..." (Disclosure violation waiting to happen. Hang up the phone and run like your job depends on it.)
The truly entertaining relative calls are if they happen to be former in-laws. You either get the complete shut down, or all the information you could ask for. Colleague got a perfect hit on a 30K account hitting a relative who turned out to the be ex-wife who'd just filed suit for back child support and had all sorts of useful information.
And then you get the sob stories about the drug use, the losers, deadbeats, and other assorted dregs of humanity. You hear about the violence ("they finally locked his ass up for beatin' on my sister"), the scam artists ("she cleaned out my bank account years ago - haven't seen her since"), and the people who just wandered off into the sunset ("he's probably under a bridge somewhere drunk, stoned, or dead. Maybe all three.")
And I never got anything useful. At least not in a time frame to make the info something that would benefit me. And that's not even getting into calling non-relatives, which I'll leave that for another post.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Exit interview and confidentiality agreement
The paperwork was in my mailbox the day following my verbal notice of termination. There is the general letter stating my termination, the listing of paperwork and benefits I need to deal with immediately, and the request to re-sign a confidentiality agreement.
No, I don't think I'm being singled out. It's a standard document to make sure I don't reveal "trade secrets" or "confidential information" related to my employer. I signed it and put it in the envelope to send back.
They also sent me the original I had signed when I first started the job back in June. Apparently non-publicly known information includes "know-how, technical data, processes, techniques, developments, inventions, research products..." etc, etc.
This does give me some pause as I look over the weblog and think about some of the postings. But I don't think I've given away any trade secrets, or revealed anything that will damage the company. I suppose if I do get a cease and desist order, I'll know I crossed a line. But until then, I intend to finish out the posts I feel like I need to write.
There is also the "exit interview" regarding the rating of the company and how it was to work for them. I'm torn on this one. The reason for leaving is mostly just I couldn't do the job. I enjoyed the people, for the most part. In the end the job was just killing my faith in humanity, and I want a little bit of that in my life going forward.
So, two forms, drop in the mail (they paid the postage), and that's the end of it. I am now formally an ex-collector, and will move on to better prospects. My better prospects right now I think involve a walk to the post office, then sitting by the creek for a spell. Then back to other paperwork and continuing to settle in to apartment.
No, I don't think I'm being singled out. It's a standard document to make sure I don't reveal "trade secrets" or "confidential information" related to my employer. I signed it and put it in the envelope to send back.
They also sent me the original I had signed when I first started the job back in June. Apparently non-publicly known information includes "know-how, technical data, processes, techniques, developments, inventions, research products..." etc, etc.
This does give me some pause as I look over the weblog and think about some of the postings. But I don't think I've given away any trade secrets, or revealed anything that will damage the company. I suppose if I do get a cease and desist order, I'll know I crossed a line. But until then, I intend to finish out the posts I feel like I need to write.
There is also the "exit interview" regarding the rating of the company and how it was to work for them. I'm torn on this one. The reason for leaving is mostly just I couldn't do the job. I enjoyed the people, for the most part. In the end the job was just killing my faith in humanity, and I want a little bit of that in my life going forward.
So, two forms, drop in the mail (they paid the postage), and that's the end of it. I am now formally an ex-collector, and will move on to better prospects. My better prospects right now I think involve a walk to the post office, then sitting by the creek for a spell. Then back to other paperwork and continuing to settle in to apartment.
Further signs of comfort
One of the other signs of civilization I've always found relaxing is a good cigar. I've smoked various and varietal types of tobacco over the years - on and off the cigarette wagon, smoked a pipe in college for a while - but the cigar is a special sort of enjoyment. It's meant to be smoked leisurely, and often socially.
Through some mail-order sampler packs, I've found I have a taste for very expensive cigars - old Cuban seed such as La Gloria Cubana and Montechristo. All of which are way too expensive for my regular budget.
So, after the liquor cabinet, I ordered some sampler packs to be shipped here, along with a cigar cutter. I have a humidor from a previous housemate who gave up cigars, and I filled it and then some. And tonight, I had the first one while standing outside.
It's an odd one - a torpedo size from the Philippines, but very easy to smoke. I watched the stars and just puffed away.
Again, the continuing mellowing out, and trying things that require the lingering time to savor and enjoy. Right now, I need to savor bedtime.
Through some mail-order sampler packs, I've found I have a taste for very expensive cigars - old Cuban seed such as La Gloria Cubana and Montechristo. All of which are way too expensive for my regular budget.
So, after the liquor cabinet, I ordered some sampler packs to be shipped here, along with a cigar cutter. I have a humidor from a previous housemate who gave up cigars, and I filled it and then some. And tonight, I had the first one while standing outside.
It's an odd one - a torpedo size from the Philippines, but very easy to smoke. I watched the stars and just puffed away.
Again, the continuing mellowing out, and trying things that require the lingering time to savor and enjoy. Right now, I need to savor bedtime.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
And so it ends
So in the end it was more of a whimper than a bang. I called in to the office, spoke to my manager who transferred me over to HR, and they told me they’d be mailing me all the paperwork necessary, no reason to come in, etc, etc.
The big question is going to be regarding unemployment. Technically they did offer me the demotion, which means NYS may determine I walked away from the job of my own free will, therefore I will get nothing. If this is the case, clearly I will need to find employment relatively quickly. If not, you’ll probably get to see a whole lot more posts about the job a whole lot more quickly, as I’ll have the time to really flesh out a few subjects I’ve been meaning to touch on.
In the end, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I wasn’t going to walk away from a paying job for nothing – I needed to get fired. I spent the day basking in the sun, considering starting work on the two bicycles I’d picked up at the dump to get into rideable shape, and in the end just chatted with neighbors. Closure to hopefully come later at a leisirely rate.
The big question is going to be regarding unemployment. Technically they did offer me the demotion, which means NYS may determine I walked away from the job of my own free will, therefore I will get nothing. If this is the case, clearly I will need to find employment relatively quickly. If not, you’ll probably get to see a whole lot more posts about the job a whole lot more quickly, as I’ll have the time to really flesh out a few subjects I’ve been meaning to touch on.
In the end, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I wasn’t going to walk away from a paying job for nothing – I needed to get fired. I spent the day basking in the sun, considering starting work on the two bicycles I’d picked up at the dump to get into rideable shape, and in the end just chatted with neighbors. Closure to hopefully come later at a leisirely rate.
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