Team Building Exercises

Have you ever wondered what happens on the other side of the virtual customer service call?

“Hey, Gloria says the pizzas are going to be here in a few. Wanna head to the conference room?” Harry asked as I shut down my computer for the week. It was the last Friday of the month and our Customer Support team meeting was about to begin. As the night crew started logging into their machines in the building next door, the staff in our office was closing down for the weekend. 

“I wonder who is going to get picked this time,” he said as he absentmindedly flipped through the ticket I had printed and left on my desk for review. I shrugged, “I dunno, man, but I could really use the chance to blow off some steam before the weekend.” 

As we all filed into the large conference room, the smell of pizza, wings, and anticipation was heavy in the air. I grabbed myself a slice of pepperoni and took my seat while Gloria, our team lead, pushed the standing dartboard we used for these monthly events and set a basket on the long wooden table we all shared. 

“For the newcomers,” she began as we passed the basket, each taking a sealed envelope, “take an envelope and open it up. I’m going to throw a dart and whatever sticks is whoever is going to read their ticket and have a whack at playing whatever deity you worship for one hour. As a refresher, murder is frowned upon by Corporate, so please don’t let me get my ass chewed again.” 

There were a few chuckles as all twenty of the envelopes were opened. “Goddam three AGAIN?!” Harry all but shouted in my ear. “What’cha get?”. I looked down at the flowery stationary that Gloria used for such occasions. “Eh, I’m probably safe this time. She never gets fifteen”. 

It just so happens, fifteen was this month’s lucky number.

I stood to read my case in front of my already humored coworkers. Most of them had heard this story already. 

“Jason Smith, 68, called to complain that the panel for his security system was not placed in the correct location. Customer states that the ‘fucking incompetent -’ not going to say the next phrase because…well…if you have to know you can read it yourself. Anyway, I tried to explain that the panel for his security system was located in the exact spot he indicated not only verbally on a recorded line but also on paper in his handwriting AND he showed the tech….twice…

After being called out on his nonsense, he very kindly screamed that women shouldn’t be working in security anyway and he demanded to speak with my manager. When I told him I worked independently, he called me an effing See You Next Tuesday and hung up. Upon further review of his social media accounts and bank records, I know that he’ll be having a dinner party this evening as a way to celebrate his recently clean colonoscopy.” 

Within minutes, the room was darkened and a projector screen was lowered so we could all watch. At the stroke of 6pm, we received a notification that his front door was being opened approximately every 3-4 minutes. Show time.

As I’ve only worked for Onyx for about ten months, I hadn’t had my chance to shine quite yet. However, I’ve had plenty of time to watch and plan. While other team members have exposed cheating spouses to their partners or set off every alarm in the house simultaneously for their hour, I had planned mine to the T. 

Logging into the view from Mr. Smith’s parlor, I could see that he was deep in conversation with a handful of guests while a couple dozen others milled through the penthouse. All of a sudden, Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” started playing on the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. The staff, who was busy laboring away so Mr. Smith could enjoy his evening, danced to the classic while continuing with their work. When the music came to a close in the kitchen, it started in the bedrooms. Some of the guests who were milling around stopped, hearing the faint melody but, not wanting to intrude on their host’s privacy, they continued with their conversations and canapes. When the song ended in the bedrooms, it picked up again in the parlor and dining room. Mr. Smith apologized to his guests stating he didn’t know where that garbage music was coming from but he’d turn it off. He went from room to room, ordering his digital servant to change the music back to the soft jazz he’d previously had playing. Unfortunate for him, every attempt at retrieving his ambience resulted in the music growing louder. The bass had glasses of champagne vibrating.

With hands covering his ears, Mr. Smith ran to the parlor to try and salvage his dinner party when his brand new 98in screen television came to life with the recording of his recent colonoscopy. 

Turns out, bigots are full of shit.

As my time came to an end, the team surrounding me counted down the seconds, cheering on the chaos I caused. When the timer buzzed with big bold 0:00, the program that allowed all of this to take place shut itself down and I slumped back in my chair. After all this time, I finally felt like I was truly a part of this team.