Saturday, April 23, 2005

The Frequently Deflating, Not Too Tragic, Overly Dramatic, Cringe Inducing Telerecruiter Blues

On a nearly daily basis I can reach heights of bliss at enticing another donor to save a life, or fight my urge to withdraw from the annals of humanity because I've been splashed with obscenities once again.

That's right. You guessed it. I'm the few, the proud, the abused.

I'm a telerecruiter. Part-time. To supplement my income. And pay for my pepperoni pizza addiction.

If you have a queasy constitution or are currently, or have been on, any heart medication, you may want to wander to the next article. This isn't going to be pretty.


It's only my first call out of the gate and I'm already up to my belt buckle in vulgarity.

"You guys (bleepity, bleep) call too (bleepin' bleep) much!"

I'm on minute three of my shift and already my "faith in humanity" needle is dancing on "e".


Decibel levels that would wound most normal humans is blaring through the phone.

That's right. Another donor that won't turn their TV down.

"I'm calling from!"

"What? Huh? I can't hear you."



Let's check that time again, 10:34 in the morning. I do this to illustrate that, for most working citizens of America, it's probably a little too early to be bone stinking drunk.

"Uh, donate what?"

"We were hoping you could give a blood donation."

"I"m too drunk to give."

Wasn't that a country song from the 70's?


I don't mind talking to children, my nephew's a children, but sometimes they drive you crazy.

"Can I talk to your Mommy or Daddy?"

"No, they're not here."

"Can you take a message?"

This is when it gets tricky. Some kids are bright enough to grab a pen and scribble down all the information.

Others make me weep for the future.

"I'll call back and leave the message on the machine. So don't pick up, ok?"

"Ok." Click.

I invariably call back and they pick up again. This can go on for ten minutes if you're not careful.


Time now for everybody's favorite donor (sarcasm intended)...the Uh-Huh donor.

Regardless of what you say, or how much emotion you put into it, this individual will just respond with...

"Uh-huh." Over and over and over again. It's frustrating, irritating and usually a complete waste of time.

Sigh. The sequel.


Every once in a while the roulette wheel of calling lands on a winner. The donor is pleasant, engaging and interested in what you have to say. They've asked intelligent, important questions that relate to making the donation process as easy as possible.

And then they tell you they just got a tattoo.


Four hours, six appointments. By the time I leave I feel like I've just stumbled out of an eight round boxing match and my psyche is all bloodied and bruised.

The point of the preceding is this: recruiting donors is an incredibly difficult job and not for everyone. Telerecruiting is, thankfully, just a part-time job. The blood bank doesn't even hire people full time for this position. I imagine the last person that did went clinically insane.

Your Local Blood Bank Telecruiter...Calling Donors So You Don't Have To.

1 comment:

  1. Your comments delight me to no end. But I am somewhat offended... I constructed Larry King and it hurts that you believe him to be poorly constructed. And am I correct in believing you have several Angelina Jolie's in your possession? When Wynona had short hair I thought she was the most gorgeous woman alive...

    Telerecruiting sounds like a pretty soul-devouring task. I fear that I would only prove to be one of the cringe-inducers. I'd either be in the middle of a workout, a movie, or a spontaneous, and solo, dance party. I'd assume someone was trying to sell me something as I shouted questions above the blasting noise of the uncooperative cd player as I fumbled for the mute. Failing to locate the mute, I'd sprint down the hall to a silent room and collapse, unable to formulate proper words due to exhaustion. Worthless. I commend you for surviving, and suffering only from callers who were worthy of annecdotage.

    I absolutely worshipped 'your movie' post and I printed it off and proudly marched around claiming it to be mine. My parents wondered how long I've been on dialysis for and for how long I've been calling myself 'Stacy' "Which, by the way, Braleigh, needs an 'e' before the 'y' or else it's too masculine a name."
    Okay, fine, I only showed one person the post and they just assumed that I was sending them one of my own, but they did state all of the aforementioned comments/questions. SO there. retrospect I wasn't putting forward a point.

    So I apologize.