13 Things They Don’t Tell You About Working in Customer Service

For the most part, working in Customer care is:

1. Having waves of malicious mouth odour wash over you by 9.15am when you are premenstrual and nauseous and want to lie down. Oh, and you have to smile through this biological attack and wait until the source is safely out of view before dousing yourself in air freshener.

2. Realizing that you are actually just a glorified errand girl/receptionist/nanny/mummy/court jester. 

The Abuja Arts and Crafts Village

First of all, hi guys! You must know that I love you even though I have a rather ridiculous way of showing it. Second of all, thank you to the few people who take this blog seriously and wander over here every once in a while to look at the pretty animals or even to cuss me out for being so stingy with posts. Mwah!

Help, My Underwire is Trying to Kill Me & Other Tales of Womanhood

Pictorial representation of underwire

Let’s cut to the chase.
Bras are a huge deal for women, especially women who are a little chesty and can’t afford to go commando for fear of the ensuing awkward wobbling. Also, if you are the least bit sporty or lead an active lifestyle, those babies need to be caged, to stop them accidentally falling into someone’s soup or getting caught under your elbow when you lean over a desk…
We all know how it goes, average day at the office, droning through the chores of the day with an eye on the clock hanging on the far wall. Life is made up of similar days of drudgery and boredom from which you try to squeeze fun and laughter. You are engaged in a serious activity, explaining real grownup forms to a colleague, when you raise your arm and faaaaaacckkkk.
Your underwire has worked its way out its protective enclosure, and jabbed you right in the sensitive flesh of your underboob.

Pepper

It was years ago when I realized I probably wouldn’t do very well in the “landing men who take me seriously” department. The year was maybe 2006, I was still mop-skinny; thin body, big head. To make things worse I actually had on this weave at that time which had been put together by a hairdresser who maybe was a carpenter in her previous life… Anyway, the weave made my head look much bigger, is the point I’m trying to make.

Zero Plus Zero Equals Blog Post

So I’m sat at the old plantation (aka office) today, when I hear my phone ring. I peep the caller ID without breaking eye contact with the old man before me, because old people are all sorts of annoying when they feel in the least bit abandoned. It is a strange number, one of those that makes you wonder if there’s a new network in town you have not heard of. I don’t know what makes me pick up the call, but I do.
Me: Hello?
He: Hello… Joy? How are you? 
Me: I’m fine…?
He: Why did you just push me aside, ehn? In fact, I’m so angry with you. 
Me: *scanning the mental voice recognition database, finding no match* Err… Why, what did I ever do to you? 
He: Why would you just forget about me… Do you even know who’s on the line?
Me: No, I don’t. 
He: Can you imagine. It’s Great.