So there is good news in la casa Valkyrie of late … the job I have been temping for the past 12 weeks has asked me to stay on permanently. The girl who originally had this position is moving into a different department, which is fine with her and certainly fine with me. So it looks like I am now the Receptionist here with the capital R, yo, and the job is pretty good. In the plus column, the job is less than 5 miles from my house, there’s a pretty view out my window, there’s a nice lake I can take a lunchtime walk around, the break room is spacious, and everyone here has been very nice to me.
Also, the company itself seems to value their employees, but then I’m the type to be grateful for any perks a job will dish out to me. I recently received an on-the-spot bonus gift card from A, the person in certs whose job comes after the work I do processing applications. Apparently I save her hours of work because I’m conscientious about typos and completing all necessary information. I figured, uh, duh, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? But I guess that’s why I’m being retained up here and the original receptionist is moving to another department.
On the down side, I have to answer the phones. Long time readers of my blog will remember when I worked for the Bastard Arse Company of Hell in inbound call center customer service. The one where my boss leaned out her office door and caterwauled, “Calls are on hold!” whenever the phones got busy. Eventually I stomped into her office and asked two questions:
- Why don’t you answer the effing phone?
- Do you even know how to do my job?
Yeah, I didn’t last there much longer after that.
But now I’m a receptionist, and a big part of my job is answering the phones. Fortunately, the call volume is nowhere near a call center, so even though I do die a little death every time that damned phone rings, it’s not so bad. Also, about 90% of the calls that come in go straight to customer service. Hah!
Going back to that little bonus I got for doing what I figured was part of my job: it’s amazing to me every time I hear about people who don’t grasp that maybe something is part of their job, even if they haven’t been told specifically that it is. I mean, I was told when I took this position that I was a receptionist. Okay, in my brain, that means answering the phones, and greeting people, and transferring calls. I didn’t need to be told that. Then, when I was given the task of entering applications (which are all handwritten and come from around the world, so I’ve gotten good at deciphering how addresses in Korea work) I figured, Okay, that means I need to be meticulous about correct spelling, capitalization, proper abbreviations, and probably even doing a lot of googling addresses. Perhaps if I were 16 or this was my first job or something, I might need to be given more instruction, but geez, it’s not rocket science, is it kids? To want to do a good job?
Of course, there is the
receptionist executive Assistant at the most recent old job. She didn’t want to be known as a receptionist. Even though she sits at the front desk. And answers phone calls. I understand that she even went into a screaming fit at the HMFIC about how she (believed) she wasn’t hired to be a receptionist and she shouldn’t have to answer all these phone calls. Oddly enough, the response to her behavior is never, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, then.” But then that’s probably due to, oh, I don’t know, my propensity for dealing with reality in the workplace.
But here is good. And I’m the receptionist. Or even the Receptionist. And I answer the phones. But other stuff too. Just ask. We’ll figure it out together, kids.