One Over X News

The Love of Money... Is the Root of All Evil

Note: As promised I am posting a letter from a friend and aspiring writer that has been slightly edited to conform to legal considerations and the general theme of this blog. I have known Jeff for more than four years. He is a graduate of The Florida Institute of Technology and a serious student of linguistics. He has produced an impressive and inspired work of fantasy fiction and in the meanwhile created a pretty intricate world in the process. I am confident that he will be published very soon. He has begun a blog at http://meditativeentropy.blogspot.com >E


Elgon,

Hey, it's Jeff. I can't tell you how odd it is to talk to you as anything other than a subordinate. Not that you ever held your superior position over me, but I feel there's a certain freedom in talking openly with a like-minded person who also happens to not be your immediate supervisor. I'll ask you the obligatory "how's things…", though only because I care how they are going in relation to you, not the company. I noticed in your blog that you refer to your former employer as the "Orange Giant". I like that. I think I shall refer my recent employer as the "Red Halfling" in those places where I am obliged to respect registered trademarks.

Anyhow, about your blog...I gotta say that this is a really good outlet for you. Even if I didn't know you, I would think it was terribly obvious from your "voice" in your postings. You truly are a good writer "in need of a good editor".

I imagined that quote from Book 2 working out better. It wasn't worded quite as I remember it though. For those of us that know you, the pieces of you that you put into your characters is obvious, and you go no easier on those parts of them than you do on yourself.

According to Lana, Jackson says Brent is a "so-so writer in need of a good editor". Friend or no, I don't think any publisher would put his fledgling company on the line for a "so-so" writer. Brent has to be better than that, and so do you. I think it's out there for everyone to see. And there's nothing wrong with needing an editor. If anyone knows that it's me, and probably every other honest writer out there.

Ok, so, I have a couple of things to say. They are unrelated, but sometimes I need an outlet too and there are few people I know personally that I think would fully appreciate, if not the subject matter, then at least the way I articulate it.

Firstly, inspiration, I believe, is contagious. That has to be why we appreciate art so much in all its many forms. This comes to mind because reading your blog brings to the forefront that incessant, addictive need to write. In fact, reading almost anything stirs up that need in me, especially if the linguistic interplay is particularly memorable.

It's kind of like spending time appreciating a classical painting, or any such artwork that you may happen to like. Or it's like listening to your favorite symphony. Seeing the dynamic of lights and darks on a canvas, or hearing the rise and fall of a well composed concerto, these are the artists' best attempt at recording the eddies stirred up in that place where the muses skim stones upon your soul. When we appreciate such art, the eddies radiate outward and our own spirits take up a sympathetic vibration.

I don't know, maybe it's me. I know people feel "inspired" by works of other people's inspiration, but how many people go out and do something because of it. For some, it is simply enough to "feel" inspired. I am not one of those. Being an artist myself, and I don't care if no one else confirms or bestows that title, I know that if I let those sympathetic vibrations, or the ones created by my own muses, fade I can never get them back, no matter how I try to shake up my own soul.

The friction of your everyday life, much like in real physics, will cause those vibrations to slow and eventually stop. That's why they say inspiration is fleeting. For some of us it definitely returns, but rarely at the frequency it previously held. That's why it is imperative as an artist to obey the chiming of the muses, for when they come to call, their message is always different.

Okay, so here's the other thing. This one is likely to be articulated less artistically, because it deals with something that is far from that paradigm. Aside from this, it is such a common lament that there is likely little I can say that has not been similarly uttered.

When did we become a society of numbers? I suppose my question isn't really when, because that probably has answers ranging from the elementary to the intricate. I guess what I really want to know is why. I'm sure it all has to do with the accumulation of perceived wealth, which is why I can't help but feel there is some truth to the old saying that "money is the root of all evil". Although, I can't really fault money as an object or even a concept itself. In the most abstract sense I think "money" or, more accurately, wealth isn't a terribly bad idea. It is, however, easy to be at best ambivalent at worst resentful of wealth and those who have it when you so frequently find yourself with the short end of the proverbial stick.

I'm digressing a bit from the point I am attempting to make. Let me give you a few examples of what frustrates me about this numbers-based society, and it's not always about money, although the "M-word" is usually not found far astray.

Today I had the pleasure of talking with a customer service/technical support rep in India who introduced herself as Mary. Now, though linguistics is my passion and though I have a great interest in foreign cultures, I will admit that I have not had the pleasure of brushing up on the culture of language of India. I am, however, certain that "Mary" or "Vic" or "Mike" are not overly common birth names over there, at least, not in those forms. So, when I am confronted with such a name from a male or female with some corporation's customer service line and it is delivered with an Indian accent my immediate reaction is one of intrigued skepticism.

I am fascinated and a little impressed by their foresight in attempting to make it easier for ugly Americans to deal with them. I try not to identify myself as an ugly American; I don't think I am one, but I suspect there's something in that supposition that belies its validity, at least to those who would label me as one. And, like any ugly American would, I feel a bit affronted by the little white lie with which "Mary" begins our 20 minute relationship.

Admittedly, Mary did turn out to be very helpful and even pleasant to speak with. I will certainly give positive feedback should I receive by email the survey that she assured me I would. But here's the thing...the ease and pleasantness of dealing with Mary made me completely forget that it took me two days to get through to a real person at her company.

Mary works for a support line for a major manufacturer of handheld digital devices such as PDA’s and hybrid PDA phones. The device for which I was attempting to reach them was out of warranty. Now, I am no novice to surfing corporate websites to track down service numbers, but it was next to impossible for this one. I found at least four toll free numbers for their sales department (they have no qualms if you want to give them copious amounts of money for shiny new material things) and no less than three long distance numbers for their corporate offices. Finding a customer support number, however, was a convoluted process of insisting to their website that I did NOT want to facilitate an online repair. As a rational human being, I do not do well trying to argue with a nonentity such as a website.

When I finally tracked down a number for their support department, where I no doubt would have been transferred had I simply dialed the readily available sales number, I thought I had scored a minor victory against numeric insignificance. I should have known better. After 30 minutes of an endless loop of piano music dispersed by the occasional message that reassured, "All of our agents are currently assisting other customers. Please remain on the line and someone will assist you shortly." Or insisted, "Your estimated wait time is longer than 5 minutes." I was cut off! Thirty minutes of diligent waiting, staring numeric insignificance in the face and daring it to make the first move, I was cut off.

I stared at the phone in pained uncertainty as it apologized with an unsympathetic dial tone. I gritted my teeth and with a renewed sense of determination I redialed the support number. Once again, a half an hour later found me blinking in disbelief as a recording helpfully suggested, "If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again..."

Well, this being the last hour of my work day and having wasted it by sitting on a fruitless phone call to limbo, I decided to call it a day. I went home, but with full intentions of coming back tomorrow and doing something that some would call insane...doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result.

Which begs the question, if the result does end up being different at some point, can you then relinquish the title of insane, or indeed, not acquire it at all? This brings us back to Mary. The next day when I tried I was only on hold for 20 minutes before Mary's pleasant voice and foreign accent interrupted the piano music I was beginning to memorize. I was relieved to say the least.

But, though I finally got my task accomplish by reaching an actual person, did I really escape reduction to a simple number? You and I both know the answer to that. That I had to jump through these hoops in the first place is a testament to that answer. The fact that I was speaking to someone whose primary language or general geographic location was not the same as mine is a testament to that answer. In the end Mary gave me a work order number, to which I am sure she will refer to me if she ever needs to for some reason...and here I stopped putting quotes around her name.

Ok, that first example took a little longer to relate than I thought, but I think it illustrated the point. Let me give one more, hopefully shorter example.

The company I just left, which I have at some point previously stated I will refer to as the Red Halfling, knowingly facilitated the aforementioned leaving. My position in said company was retail salesperson, and though I was, perhaps, not the most stellar the company had ever seen, I was certainly good enough to keep my job and be pleased with my commission-based paycheck. My technique, which was incredibly effective at instilling a sort of fierce loyalty in my customers, was simply to be as helpful as I possibly could and to admit when I didn't know but promise that I would find out.

Mine was the kind of technique you don't really see in retail sales these days. Perhaps it's just that I don't have the mind of a salesman, but the examples we were expected to learn from seemed to me archaic. I know that "sales" has pretty much been the same since the beginning of time, but this time is different than any before it. The "Numeric Shift" of modern society has had several side effects. Consumers like me have become wary of numeric insignificance and have thus educated themselves, at least through experience, about the dynamics of this new common perception. Many consumers can smell an old sales pitch like, oh say, a jar of 50 years old limburger cheese.

Not that I can completely fault the Red Halfling's sales training techniques. I acquired a lot of good information that I know will help me in future endeavors, but for the most part I did things my own way. I started off with really believing in what I was selling. I followed up with really learning the details about what I was selling. I finished up with presenting it in an honest way to my customers so that they knew what was available to them and what my own personal advice was. Of course, for some, the mere fact that my title was "salesperson" made it impossible for them to buy what I was really trying to sell: my sincerity. I can honestly say, though, now that I no longer work for the Red Halfling, I truly was sincere. I wish there was a way I could impart that to every customer who didn't believe me.

It is likely that any salesperson who reads this is going to roll their eyes at that last point. They will probably believe that any failings I had as a salesperson can be summed up in the previous paragraph. But it is that thinking which promoted the kind of changes in society that brought about my decision to no longer offer my services to the Red Halfling.

So, onto the reason for my resignation. The Red Halfling has been slowly restructuring itself over the past year or so, as have many companies of such stature, hoping to someday attain, if not the height, then at least the comfortable girth of the Orange Giant. The most recent change instituted by the company was, to put it bluntly, slap their moneymakers, the salespeople, as a pimp would his bitches. And what for, might you ask? Why else does the affluent manager of a lucrative street corner of working girls resort to such unjust action? Money, of course.

The company claims that under its "Performance Pay Plan" customers were subjected to "overly aggressive sales techniques", which conflicts with its follow up argument that salespeople were too concerned with reaching a sales volume plateau to care about selling the things the company wanted you to sell. The solution to this gross, if poorly explained, injustice to the clientele? Level the playing field. Make all retail salespeople hourly. Oh yeah, and give out raises every three months regardless of performance. If you have a knack for being a mindless drone, guess what? You can continue to earn money up until a cap that is still a fraction of what you were making before. Otherwise you'll lose your job. I guess that's what I get for believing communism is a good idea "in theory". A point which makes the moniker "Red Halfling" even more appropriate.

Honestly, not all salespeople working for the Red Halfling got the raw deal on this one. Some of them probably made out, while still others remained about the same. For me and many others, though, it meant a significant slash in pay. Their hourly offer was laughable, regardless of how they reworked the "incentives" for selling services. The one thing I will give them credit for is offering a severance to those who had been with them for a considerable time, a number that included me.

But once again, it comes down to that word...number. I was just one of "a number" of salespeople that left the Red Halfling because of their treatment of us and their clientele as "a number". And I know that though my number was retired, it is destined to be replaced almost instantaneously by another, higher only in that it is a number incremented as many times as there have been employees since my hire date, but not higher in value to the eyes of the company.

I am convinced that the moment the very first shepherd invented counting, it was only so that he could know how many more sheep he had than his neighbor. From then on that instinct to "have more than" doomed us to be a society dependent upon numbers. Don't get me wrong, I have a deep appreciation for numbers, because without an understanding of numbers we may never have stumbled upon mathematics, which have told us more about the inner workings of our universe than we could have ever hoped to learn without it. But let's face it, if the average person were confronted with a complete numerical model of the universe or an abstract vernacular for describing the universe in a complete but succinct manner, which do you think would be more memorable and effective for conveying the idea to the rest of humanity? I realize that it is not likely that either will ever exist, but I believe the answer to this hypothetical question is beyond obvious.

I lament that companies like the Red Halfling and the one for which Mary works have so easily subscribed to this numeric philosophy. I realize how important the bottom line is for a business. As my general manager always said, "We are not a philanthropic organization." But why not? Can't a business be interested in helping humanity AND turning a profit? People always talk about word of mouth and customer service. I've even heard it out of the mouths of the people I used to call my employers. But I don't think you've ever heard someone say to their friend, "Guess what? I'm customer number 957887864320032 at company XYZ, which means that they'll let me stand in a crowd of faceless people where I'll wait to be asked what I want and then shuffled off to obscurity!"

Come to think of it, I've never heard anyone say, "Dude, you gotta come work for the company that I work for. I'm one of about a million people worldwide and my immediate supervisor can't remember my name even though I've been there for three years. They pay me a mediocre wage and take an inordinate amount of money away for crappy benefits that they don't want me to use anyway! It's great!"

Anyhow...I think I've made my point, though I probably took the long road to do so. Hopefully there was something of worth in my rants. If not, at least it helped me to get some things out that I would not have otherwise. Thank you for listening...and even if you don't read this far, I'd still like to thank Notepad.exe, who has patiently observed as I directed all these 1's and 0's to the memory it reserved for itself.

P.S. Elgon, I think some of the latter material in this email shows this pretty clearly, but if you wish to post any part of this in your blog, which I don't think is likely as it has little to do with its purpose, or if you wish to paraphrase me in future posts, which may be more likely, I give you permission to do so, though I would like credit, for whatever little pleasure I will get from knowing that any of it was of value, and if you would, please, refer to me as a fried rather than a former co-worker or employee, which I expect you would do anyways, but I ask just in case. How's THAT for a run-on sentence?!

It was a tirade of commas, but I tend to use commas when I am fatigued. They mimic my drooping eyelids in a way, I suppose. Oh, and if you do not wish to post any of this, but wish me to do so, just let me know. This was originally just intended to be a friendly email, but it has sated somewhat my urge to write for the evening. I had fun.

Thanks.

Jeff

posted by Unknown @ 8:51 AM