Interview with the Telemarketer
We’ve all been harassed by telemarketers who call us at home trying to sell us things we don’t want or need. They have almost single-handedly given salespeople a bad name. But, have you ever wondered what it’s like for them to do what they do for a living, and why they chose to go into a field where they are almost universally hated?
Enid Du Bois was a telemarketer [or “telephone solicitor”] for a Chicago newspaper for three months. Studs Terkel interviewed her for his book Working: People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do (1974). Find out from Du Bois about sneaky tactics some companies have used to, first, get new employees to perform telemarketing tasks, then, to get customers to buy whatever they’re selling.
THE TELEMARKETER
She explains how she unwittingly became a telemarketer: “I needed a job. I saw this ad in the paper: ‘Equal Opportunity. Salary plus commission.’ I called and spoke ever so nicely. The gentleman was pleased with the tone of my voice; and, I went down for an interview. My mind raced as I was on the train coming down. I’ll be working on North Michigan Avenue. It’s the greatest street. I was elated. I got the job right away. All we had to do was get orders for the newspaper. [¶] There were mostly females working there, about thirty in one large phone room. About four of us were black.”
At first, she liked it: “We didn’t have to think what to say. They had it all written out. You have a card. You’d go down the list and call everyone on the card. You’d have about fifteen cards with the persons’ names, addresses, and phone numbers. ‘This is Mrs. Du Bois. Could I have a moment of your time? We’re wondering if you now subscribe to any newspapers? If you would ONLY for three short months take this paper, it’s for a worthy cause.’ To help blind children or Crusade of Mercy. We’d always have one at hand. ‘After the three-months period, if you no longer desire to keep it, you can cancel it. But, you will have helped them. They need you.’ You’d use your last name. You could alter your name, if you wanted to. You’d almost have to be an actress on the phone. (Laughs.) I was very excited about it, until I got the hang of it.”
The company had tricked her: “The salary was only $1.60 an hour. You’d have to get about nine or ten orders per day. If you didn’t, they’d pay you only $1.60. They call that subsidizing you. (Laughs.) If you were subsidized more than once, you were fired.
“The commission depended on the territory. If it was middle class, it would be $3.50. If it was ghetto, it would be like $1.50 because some people don’t pay their bills. A lot of papers don’t get delivered in certain areas. Kids are afraid to deliver. They’re robbed. The suburbs was the top territory. [¶] A fair area, say, lower middle class, they’d pay you $2.50. To a lot of solicitors’ dismay, they’d kill some orders at the end of the week. He’d come in and say, ‘You don’t get this $2.50 because they don’t want the paper.’ We don’t know if it’s true or not. How do we know they canceled? But, we don’t get the commission. [¶] If you didn’t get enough orders for the week, a lot of us would work four and five hours overtime. We knew: no orders, no money. (Laughs.) We’d come down, even on Saturdays.
“They have some old pros; but, they worked on the suburbs. I worked the ghetto areas. The old-timers really came up with some doozies. They knew how to psyche people. They were very fast talkers. If a person wanted to get off the phone, they’d say, ‘No, they need you. They need your help. It’s only for three short months.’ The person would just have to say, ‘Okay,’ and end up taking it. [¶] They had another gimmick. If they kept the paper, they would get a free gift of a set of steak knives. If they canceled the order, they wouldn’t get anything. Everybody wants something for free.
“There was a chief supervisor. He would walk into the office and say, ‘Okay, you people, let’s get some orders! What do you think this is?’ He’d come stomping in and holler, ‘I could pay all the bums on Madison Street to come in, you know.’ He was always harassing you. He was a bully, a gorilla of a man. I didn’t like the way he treated women. [¶] I did as well as I wanted to. But, after a while, I didn’t care. Surely, I could have fast-talked people. Just to continually lie to them. But, it just wasn’t in me. The disgust was growing in me every minute. I would pray and pray to hold on a little longer. I really needed the money. It was getting more and more difficult for me to make these calls. [¶] The supervisor would sometimes listen in. He had connections with all the phones. He could just click you in. If a new girl would come in, he’d have her listen to see how you were doing—to see how well this person was lying. That’s what they taught you. After a while, when I got down to work, I wanted to cry.
“I talked to one girl about it. She felt the same way. But, she needed the job, too. The atmosphere was different here than being in a factory. Everybody wants to work on Michigan Avenue. All the people I’ve worked with, most of them aren’t there anymore. They change. Some quit; some were dismissed. The bully would say they weren’t getting enough orders. They get the best liar; and, the best liar stays. I observed, the older people seemed to enjoy it. You could just hear them bugging the people …”
More tricks against the telemarketers and the customers: “We’d use one charity and would change it every often. Different papers have different ones they use. I know a girl does the same work for a different paper. The phone room is in the same building as the newspaper. … [¶] When I first started, I had a pretty good area. They do this just to get you conditioned. (Laughs.) This is easy. I’m talking to nice people. God, some of the others! A few obscenities. A lot of males would say things to you that weren’t so pleasant. Some were lonely. They’d tell you that. Their wives had left them …
“At first I liked the idea of talking to people. But, pretty soon, knowing the area I was calling—they couldn’t afford to eat, let alone buy a newspaper—my job was getting me down. They’d say, ‘Lady, I have nine to feed, or I would help you.’ What can you say? One woman I had called early in the morning, she had just gotten out of the hospital. She had to get up and answer the phone. [¶] They would tell me their problems. Some of them couldn’t read. Honest to God, they weren’t educated enough to read a newspaper. Know what I would say? ‘If you don’t read anything but the comic strips …’ ‘If you got kids, they have to learn how to read the paper.’ I’m so ashamed thinking of it. [¶] In the middle class area, the people were busy and they couldn’t talk. But, in the poor area, the people really wanted to help the charity I talked about. They said I sounded so nice, they would take it anyway. A lot of them were so happy that someone actually called. They could talk all day long to me. They told me all their problems; and, I’d listen. [¶] They were so elated to hear someone nice, someone just to listen a few minutes to something that had happened to them, somehow to show concern about them. I didn’t care if there was no order. So, I’d listen. I heard a lot of their life histories on the phone. I didn’t care if the supervisor was clicked in.”
Finally, her conscience was pushed to its breaking point: “People that were there a long time knew just what to do. They knew when to click ‘m off and get right on to the next thing. They were just striving, striving … It was on my mind when I went home. Oh my God, yeah. I knew I couldn’t continue doing it much longer. [¶] What really did it for me was one call I made. I went through the routine. The guy listened patiently and he said, “I really would like to help.’ He was blind himself! That really got me—the tone of his voice. I could just tell he was a good person. He was willing to help even if he couldn’t read the paper. He was poor—I’m sure of that. It was the worst ghetto area. I apologized and thanked him. That’s when I left for the ladies’ room. I was nauseous. Here I was sitting here telling him a bunch of lies, and he was poor and blind and willing to help. Taking his money. [¶] I got sick in the stomach. I prayed a lot, as I stayed there in the restroom. I said, “Dear God, there must be something better for me. I never harmed anyone in my life, dear Lord.’ I went back to the phone room; and, I just sat there. I didn’t make any calls. The supervisor called me out and wanted to know why I was sitting there. I told him I wasn’t feeling good; and, I went home.”
In the end, she got her satisfaction: “I came back the next day because I didn’t have any other means of employment. I just kept praying and hoping and looking. And, then, as if my prayers were answered, I got another job. The one I have now. I love it. [¶] I walked into the bully’s office and told him a few things. I told him I was sick and tired of him. Oh God, I really can’t tell you what I said. (Laughs.) I told him, ‘I’m not gonna stay here and lie for you. You can take your job and shove it.’ (Laughs.) And, I walked out. He just stood there. He didn’t say anything. He was surprised. I was very calm. I didn’t shout. Oh, I felt good. [¶] I still work in the same building. I pass him in the hallway every once in a while. He never speaks to me. He looks away. Every time I see him, I hold my head very high, very erect, and keep walking.”
CONCLUSION
Du Bois’s story is inspiring because she is wonderfully kind-hearted but also amazing strong in her resolve to support herself and her family. She could listen to her customer’s life stories to make them feel better even though she risked getting yelled at by her supervisor. But, at the same time, she didn’t dare quit the job she hated so much until she found something better. She is not a quitter. Most of all, she didn’t quit on herself or her future. She believed there must be way; so, she kept looking for it and found it.
We all have to earn a living, and often we get stuck in jobs we hate. But, for most of us, it’s best to have a well thought out plan for what to do next before walking out on our current jobs and careers. Most people get stuck doing what they don’t like simply because they can’t think of anything else they’d like to do better, such as the Receptionist in this “Interviews With” series. Even with a college education, she can’t figure out what she wants to do with her life.
The Stockbroker was fortunate enough to find something he loved doing—building homes—but, for no good reason, he moved on to something else that he hated and stayed in that! Or, sometimes, they find the money and “glamorous” lifestyles too tempting to leave until it’s too late, like the TV Commercials Producer and the Prostitute. But, it can be done. The Professional Hockey Player and the Professional Baseball Player both left their “glamorous” jobs when they were no longer happy and ultimately found more satisfying careers. So did the Policeman turned Fireman and the President of a Giant Corporation turned Consultant. The Housewife, the Inventer, Entrepreneur, and Factory Owner, and the Young Founder and CEO of Four Corporations all loved their occupations and never wanted to retire.
It’s your life. If you’re unhappy, do something about it. But, do it in a smart way. Really plan your next step. And the next. And the next. Think about the pros and cons of each move. Talk about it with someone you trust and respect. Find out as much as you can from the internet, bookstores, and libraries. If you keep looking, like Du Bois did, you will find an occupation you love and get your satisfaction, too!
Learn more intimate details about other U.S. occupations from people who worked in them for years from the other articles in the “Interviews With” series.
If you would like a copy of Mr. Terkel’s book: click here
[For more “Interviews With” articles, click here.]
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